A word on faith.

The first thing I did when I arrived home from Logan for Christmas Break was visit the library.

I realized that for more than three weeks, my life would be void of homework, articles, and textbooks allowing me an opportunity that hasn't presented itself since summer. It's not like I can't read in Logan, that's a stupid thought. Having such a huge block of time with little to no commitment just makes it easier.  

Another factor is that I'm what I like to call a "bullet" reader.  I never-with the exception of books akin to Les Miserables-take more than a week to finish a book. Generally it's more like two days. One of my little joys in the world is the ability to sit down for six or seven hours and get completely lost.  

Last night, a little after 3 A.M., I finished The Undaunted. It's what Tisha refers to as a "mo-mo" book, that being Mormon Fiction. 

Yes, it was by Gerald Lund. 

And okay, yes. I admit to reading The Work and the Glory at least three times before the age of 13. 

And by that I mean all ten books, at least three times. Actually, I'm not sure I read much else that year.

That dark blot in my literary past has thankfully faded.

I should also mention that I'm a historical fiction geek. It may stem back to my father being a history teacher or maybe it bloomed when I started reading The Great Brain series in 3rd grade but I am absolutely fascinated\when a writer can research real events and add in fictional characters.

The Undaunted is a well written novel that follows the journey of the hole-in-the-rock pioneers of southern Utah and northern Arizona. Te book wasn't really a challenge, but obviously Lund didn't want it to be something to grovel over. The characters are well rounded. The research is nothing short of amazing. 

Wait, you're saying. Back up. The "hole-in-the-rock" pioneers? Uh, all we know is the ones who came across in 1847, and possibly the ones in handcarts that got stuck in massive blizzards in Wyoming. 

I, of all people, should have known who these pioneers were. My great-great-great-great grandparents were the ones who, besides the Navajo, first inhabited southern Utah. Between my dad the resident historian and the endless family stories, I know the history of southern Utah like the back of my hand. I'm related to the greats of the time, including apostle George Q. Cannon. 

There's a published book behind me called The Cannon Family Historical Treasury.  I'm not at all saying this in a braggadocios way.  I just want to make point that I've heard every southern Utah/ceder city, pioneer, St. George, temple building story there is.

At least I thought so. 

As I started to read this book, I was stumped. I had never even heard a reference to these pioneers. I asked my wise father, who told me the only the only people who know this story are Utah historians. 

Oh yes, and people who have read The Undaunted.

A majority of the people in this story were living comfortably in Ceder City around 1879. Most had crossed the plains in wagons in 1848   or were the children of those who had. They had been called to the southern area of the state shortly after arriving in Utah. By the 1870's, it was a very well established area. 

At this time, the Indian wars are over but feelings are still close to brewing over the edge. I can't remember the number exactly, between 100-150, people from the ceder area are called to create a settlement in the San Juan Valley, less than 20 miles from the Arizona border. To be brief, the area is not only roadless, but it looks like this:

Instead of six weeks, as they had planned, it took six months. They literally had to build holes in cliffs to get through, thus their name.

After all of this, after giving up fortunes and business and comfortable homes they settled in the San Juan Valley. Instead of it becoming larger like St. George or Ogden it never grew. In almost 150 years, the population probably hasn't even doubled. Some moved on, but many lived on their lives in, quite frankly, a desert wasteland. The Lord wanted them there for a reason, but in a historian's eyes their small settlement was completely uneventful. 

I thought about this for a long time after I finished the book. I simply don't know that I would have the faith to do something like this. Could I go into a impossible journey eight months pregnant? With my small children? I can have my daily scripture study, go to church for a few hours on Sunday, and work hard to emulate Christ, But...could I leave everything?

I realize that's not my mission, at least not in this day and age. I have my own journey to follow. I've heard countless seminary teachers say that the time we're living in is so challenging that the pioneers wouldn't have traded us.  I don't buy it for a minute. I look at these people's absolute faith, their willingness to do whatever the Lord asked of them, and I feel like I've shortchanged myself. No matter how hard I work, I fear I will never be that good.

Faith comes with sacrifice, this I understand. 

How can I create that rock hard faith in my daily life? 

I don't know. I really don't.

21 days with nothing to do

I finally saw 500 Days of Summer.


It made it on my top ten movies list. Also, I have a nerd-crush on Joseph Gordon Levitt.

Wonderful.

Seis

Somebody that I miss


She's had many nicknames, including Nanny, Banana, Nans, and most affectionately The Jolly Green Giant.
 This is Savannah, my baby sister.
Except, she's not a baby anymore.
She's a lot bigger now, promise.

A weekend via crappy cell phone pictures

I partied a little...(With grad students no less)


Studied a lot...

Bought an ugly sweater...


And looked a little like this.

Oh, and set off the fire alarm. Sadly,  I was too preoccupied saving pizza from our fiery furnace of an oven to take any pictures.

Sungglie

I kind of like my roommates.

Sometimes in my darkest hours of studying, I watch this and my brain melts more than I ever thought possible.



It's finals week, can't you tell?

Back to my Future

With finals, deadlines, and a thousand other things weighing on my little freshman mind, I should be stressing out...right. about. now.

I feel good. Maybe it's the fact that this biology room smells like hot dogs. It could be that I'm having a great hair day. Oh, or maybe it's the fact that my JCOM 2010 movie was a hit. Possibly it's the fact that even though I'm date-less this weekend, I'm looking forward to holing up in my room with an economics e-textbook.

Okay, maybe not.

It's this combination of relief, abeyance, confidence...I guess you could call it peace.

I can't believe what a difference a year can make.

Me, I'm a Lumberjack.

The girls of 203 had quite a dynamic weekend. On Friday, we hosted the lumberjack party of the century complete with flapjacks, flannel, and facial hair. It was followed by a snowball fight of enormous proportions. Quite a success, if I do say so myself. If you didn't come...well, you should have.

Saturday and Sunday were filled with new friends, old friends, and everything in-between.

I'm feeling grateful.
Good friends, good food, good life.

bromidic

This is...

a. sick-nasty air.
b. potential for a killer snowball
c. cold like Barry Blaustein's heart.
d. logan
e.all of the above


My entire week can be summed up in this video.
Yes, two boys in the engineering building at midnight choreographing a light-saber duel.







I'm really glad I'm not a math major. Rephrase: I'm glad there are people in the world smart enough to do math so that I don't have to.

Why exactly is Tisha so great?

Hi roommates. Anybody that's been with her for two minutes knows the answer to this :) She's the most selfless, kind, effortlessly beautiful person I know. She's always the first to brighten a hard day. She's an all-around good person. Someday, I hope to be half as good as her. Oh, and she does her chores. Can't beat that.

Ask me anything

five 'n yawn

Today, I am the victim of a wandering mind. Try as I might, I can't seem to focus on anything that is relatively important. Considering my to-do list, it's not a great day to go into spacey, incompetent mode. Turns out that lack of sleep, slight twitterpation, two feet of snow, and too many carbs is a lethal combination...at least to my grades. 

#5. A good memory

I could have done this with a picture, but a video gave it more justice.
Oh yeah, sorry it's in parts. There are also a few weird freezing parts. I never figured out how to fix them.

Love these girls :)

Formspring

In my blog-stalking, I came across Formspring. It lets people ask me any question in the world while remaining anonymous. For some reason, things like this intrigue me. Thus the little box at the bottom of this page. It only took me a few days to get a question.  

Here's today's question:

Insecurities? Secret obsession? One thing that really only family knows about you? I know, I'm such a cheater, asking three questions at once.

One at a time...

I've always been insecure about the way I come across to people. I wanted to stay as far away from being annoying or pesky as possible. Yet, as trying to change a personality often does, it backfired. I became unapproachable. Along with that, I have a constant fear that people, even my best friends and my family, will get sick of me. Irrational? Yes, but most insecurities are.

I don't have many "secret" obsessions. I'm a newspaper freak, but most everybody that has spent two minutes with me knows that. I'm a people watcher. I like to listen in on conversations, read blogs, and in some cases, Google people. It makes me sound like a stalker, I know. Knowing little things about people helps me to have better conversations with them. Because I'm guilty of analyzing everything, it also helps me to decide how to help others based on their personalities. That probably made little-to-no sense, but these are midnight ramblings. 

I am secretly the most self-centered, impatient, impetuous, person in the world (or at least in Logan). I like to think that only my family sees this side of me, although I'm not sure. I'm working on it, but it's one of those lifelong projects. 

Also, only my family knows how much I love 80's TV, Celine Dion, and Lima Beans. Oh, and that books make me cry more than movies do. 

Oh, and you're not cheating. Just flubbing a little. 

Over and Out.

three...and then some.

My A picture that shows your true self:
As much as I hate to admit to it, there are two that come to mind. 

I've enjoyed years of mocking laughter because my face squints like a 90 year-old man when I laugh.

Also, I'm terrible at taking "cute" pictures. It's just not meant to be.















Yeah. Thirty Day Blog Challenge? Fail.

Going through so many pictures has got me reminiscin' though. It was Nate's farewell this weekend, which means I got to see all the peeps for the first time since mid-august. It's funny to see how quickly people change or in some cases, don't change.

I just found out one of my lifeguard buddies is engaged. I stared at the text message that revealed this to me for a while, calculating how long it's been since he went off to school, not dating anybody. Not even three months.

Marriage is good. Marriage is spectacular. Marriage is FOREVER.

Before I make that commitment, I have to find a guy that will put up with me that long. It's not a decision that I can make in a few weeks.

Anyway, enough sounding like a mia-maid lesson.

Logan is beautiful in the snow. I can't wait until I have my Nikon (or possibly Canon) in my hand next week. I'm thrilled. It's something I've wanted for three years and now it's obtainable. Even though my eye is untrained, there is something about photography that is incredible. Obviously I love to write, but real photography can tell a story that words can't. When you put the two together, great writing and breathtaking photography, it's the epitome of why I got into journalism.

Currently, I'm immersed in a JCOM project. It's going to be...well, epic. I'll post the youtube link when we're done.

two

A picture that confuses me.

Disneyland 2010:

Mostly it confuses me because I can't remember why we were trying to seduce a bush. Also, our expressions both confuse and concern me.

Miss that girl.

One

I promised myself I wouldn't do this. I hate things that remind me of e-mail forwards of kittens and annoying facebook messages. Yet, I'm doing it.

A picture of something that means a lot to me:

These are two of my close friends from high school. They're best friends and cousins. I love this picture because of their smiles, they radiate. Solomon passed away earlier this year, which is probably part of the reason I appreciate the picture now. Kristen is far away at Snow College living life in the fast lane. Well, as fast as you can get in Ephraim. Even though I'm not with either of them now, thinking about them brings a smile to my face.

Cover me.

Some people hate cover songs. Actually...a lot of people. It's understandable when a random band slaughters your favorite song, which happens more often than not, but I am of the opinion that a good number of people just can't stand to hear their favorite songs in a different style.

That being said, there are some really terrible covers. I mean, Britney Spears singing "I Love Rock and Roll" should have never happened. Really, every time I think of my Mia Maid group preforming it at our ward fundraiser complete with too-tight shirts and hairbrushes, I cry a little.

  Occasionally there's just a song that's better done than the original. That's not the case with all the covers, and not even all of the ones on this list. But without further ado, my top ten favorite covers.
10. Sweet Caroline-Glee





















Go ahead and balk. And yes, I have listened to the original. This just has more life to it then Neil Diamond.

9.Such Great Heights-Ben Folds



I still love the original more, but who could it better than Ben Folds? Oh, yeah. Iron and Wine.

8. Telephone-Aston


Gorgeous. It astounds me how everybody but Lady Gaga herself can make her songs sound good.

7. Fix You-Secondhand Serenade



This is the junky pop side of me, but this song makes my heart fall into a million pieces. Also, I could marry his voice. Not him, just the voice.

6.Youth Group – Forever Young


It makes me think happy hippie thoughts.

5. Guns and Roses-Knocking on Heavens Door


In ninth grade, I went through a Guns and Roses stage. This is pretty much the only thing that stuck.

4. Michael Bublé-Cry Me a River


His voice runs over Justin Timberlake's like a steamroller running over a pea.

3. Ben Folds- Still Fighting It



I didn't even know this was a cover until recently. Love the video too.

2. Gavin Mikhail- I'll Follow You Into the Dark



I've never heard a cover that can compete with original, but this is the closest. It might just be me, but this song is incredibly powerful in a mellow way.


1. Disco Curtis-Just Dance

I am a mellow music person, but this makes me want to mosh. It's not only far superior to the original, but it's head banging, dancing, crazy fun. If you can get me to like a heavy song, you know it has to be good.

Missin, Missin, reminiscin.

Oh the days.

I saw this lovely picture posted on Alyssa's blog and realized how much I miss this. Don't get me wrong. I don't miss high school at all. I don't even miss the good 'ol Ledger. As stated before, I miss being part of something GOOD. Something productive. Even when I'm volunteering at the Food Pantry or Tutoring I don't feel like an integral part of a group. I started giving service because I like people relying on me. I like using my time to create positive change. Yet in all of my service I'm treated like I'm just there to get hours for a scholarship. I shouldn't be complaining, I'm only a Freshman, but part of being Allee is a constant need to be productive. I'll probably regret this statement next year but if I could I would drop all the time I'm involved with other organizations and spend it at the paper. Since I didn't get the senior position at the Statesman, It'll be next year when that happens. 

I knew I probably wouldn't get it and I'm satisfied with that. I'm just missing something I've never had before. 

I wish I could write all the time. Life would be even better than it is now, if that's possible. 

Bad.

Let me tell a story about how I've written nothing worthwhile and the semester is almost over.

Once upon a time, Allee wrote for three months, looked back, and realized it wasn't good. In fact, it had no spark. It was a jumble of quotes and messiness. It made her heart cry big tear drops.

The end.

I read writing like Rhett's, or Ben's, or my editors and I feel like shriving up like a raisin that's been in the sun too long.

I swear, I used to be able to write well. I promise.

Current mood: about like this.


There was a much better one. I just deemed it inappropriate.

Freshman Status

Just interviewed for the a senior writing position at the Statesman.

I don't know that I'll actually get it, but I want it. Heaven knows how bad I want it.

I miss being a part of something. I might be on staff, but I'm not part of the staff. The difference between the two is like comparing an Oreo to an Duplo, that stupid knock-off brand that slightly resembles mud-colored sawdust.

Even though we weren't all best friends at the Ledger, we were tight, at least in the sense we knew everything about each other. I need to be in a tight group of semi-productive people. It's part of my nature.

Anyway. I'm hoping beyond hope.

But I'm still a freshman, which means...well, you can guess. I don't want to jinx myself.

Still want it.

Yup.

Oh, read this. It made me laugh that people spend time doing this.

http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/fea/taste/stories/0114dnlivoreos.1870d59.html

The Great Debate

After a long and sleepless night, I stood by the drink machine in Old Main having a battle with myself. There was Diet Coke, Water, and Dr. Pepper. There was also Vitamin Water (guahf, vitamins), which would have been my first choice, but sadly I was short a quarter. Here's a conversation you never needed to read:

"Diet Coke kept my young leaders up for 3 days straight all those years ago. I'm sure it could help me for three hours."

"Duh, Allee. Caffeinated. "

"Dr. Pepper...wonderful, sugar-induced awakness."

"Caffeinated, but much more more tempting"

Note: There are two things I almost never do. Drink soda and partake (bahaha) of caffeine. Call me a prude, but soda   makes you fat and caffeine, in my mind, is a drug that is fairly addictive. I believe them both to be destructive. However, at some point in my life I have obviously had soda, a few times with caffeine. And yes, of course it has to do with being LDS, but even if I wasn't, I would think caffeine was an addictive substitute for actually being healthy and sleeping. Also, there was a time, around my thirteenth year, when I was addicted to caffeine free Dr. Pepper. It was a happy time.

Anyway...back to Allee being tempted.

I was literally moving my hand to button #12. The button that could deliver me liquid sugar. The button that could actually get me to remember something from my next three classes.

"By buying this product, I are letting that company have power over my body. I'm telling myself that I have no control. I'm giving myself to an intimate object that will be gone within the hour."

Yes. I've obviously been to school way too much. By now, you're probably wondering why you're spending time reading about a girl making a seemingly tiny issue into a life decision. She doesn't know why either.

Now, I'm sitting in class with a bottle of water to my left. I'm still utterly exhausted, and I know I won't remember much about today, but I won a battle against myself. Stupid? Probably.

aw well.

Oh, ya know.

I really have nothing thrilling to write about. Actually I have no topic at all, which is a terrible start to an already dying blog post.

I just need to write. I don't really want to write anything else on immigration, undocumented workers, or political cartoons (yeah, thanks for that media smarts). I don't want to start on another newspaper article. I just want to write to write.

The past week, my life has been a giant ball of nerves, and that's not Allee-like. Homework nerves, sickness nerves, boyish nerves. They're all clumping together in the pit of my stomach. I'll probably get an ulcer. Thinking about it, nerves aren't terrible in and of themselves. They keep me on my toes. It's just when everything gets jumbled...it makes me feel like a pot of gumbo.

In happier news, I went on a Poe and pie date yesterday. I came with a can of refried beans, and ended up with a bendy calculator. Shaun and I laughed for a long time about the irony of an English department sponsored activity giving away calculators as door prizes.

How I love thee, dating. I wish there was more of you to fill my life.

Despite my gumbo-ness, life is good. I'm still the shy (ha.), awkward girl at the paper that nobody knows, but...it will...get...better.

Oh yeah, the end.

Boom.

The search for peace is one of the ultimate quests of the human soul. 
We all have highs and lows, but such times come and they usually always go. Kind neighbors assist. Beautiful sunshine brings encouragement. A good night’s sleep usually works wonders. But there are times in all of our lives when deep sorrow or suffering or fear or loneliness makes us cry out for the peace which only God Himself can bring. These are times of piercing spiritual hunger when even the dearest friends cannot fully come to our aid.-Jeffrey R. Holland

Many things have blown my little mind out of the water today, but this quote is at the top of the list. How I love the way Elder Holland uses words.

Haze of Ill

For three long days I've been walking around in a hazy, bacteria induced, throat lozenge dependent, world. I've been a functionally ill person. Yesterday, I drifted to three classes, spent four hours in the library, showed up at a news meeting in a daze sounding like a horse in labor, and went to an SI in which I was already so far gone that it probably made my quiz score worse.

The funny thing is, I don't really remember any of this. It's all blurry wreckage in my mind. I do remember walking across the quad and being tempted to lay down and fall asleep...

I have managed to pass my sickness on to three of my roommates, which frankly sucks. There's this scene in the LDS version  of Pride and Prejudice, if you live in Utah I'm sure you know it well.

At one time the producer of this movie must have been a really sick person in college, because they hit the nail on the head.



 I'm sitting on the couch, surrounded by used tissues, watching Gilmore Girls. Don't judge me.


My eyes ache, my throat burns, my head pounds. I'm staring a week's worth of garbage, wishing I had energy to move five feet and take it out.

I take vitamin C, I get enough sleep, and I eat spinach. Sickness takes no favorites.

Click.

 

For many weeks I've been entertaining the thought of buying a very nice, very expensive, very unnecessary camera. I know I'll have enough money to do it next semester. I'm not a photographer, though I wish I was. There is something so magical about a picture being able to tell a story that words can't. I think the journalist in me always wants to find that story.

However...I want to be able to eat next year, and I'm not sure what scholarships are coming my way making my decision much more of a decision.

In the end, I'll probably just be really sensible. I won't buy the camera for five years, and I'll walk around campus everyday wishing I had a camera. I'm coming to the conclusion that I'm pretty spoiled. I'm going to college almost free and yet I'm sitting here wishing for a $650 toy. Albeit, a beautiful toy.


When I really want something, I'm a person that finds out how to get it. When I wanted to be editor-in-chief, I worked for it. When I wanted scholarships, I applied until I got them. When I wanted a boyfriend I...eh, well I guess it doesn't always work.

I'll get this one way or another. I just have to figure out how.

Another consideration...I should probably figure out how to use a camera before I buy one.

Andy, you're a star

I've rediscovered my love for The Killers. I remember when I was first getting into the odd music scene around seventh grade. I told my parents that I wanted The Killers CD, I think they thought I wanted to listen to a bunch of guys in prison that screamed about murder. Not quite.


I'm grateful that my parental figures never tried to quell my eccentric taste in music. Even when I went through a Guns and Roses phase in 9th grade, they just played along knowing I would hate it later.


There's something special about The Killers though. I've been through hundreds of bands since I discovered them, but I always come back to their odd-ball lyrics and wonderful, if not slightly designless, instrumentation. 


I'm surprised that I haven't realized this before college but my being a Logophile- a lover of words- is a double edged sword. The people that hurt me that most are those who know how to use words against me. On the other hand, I'm also very receptive to positive language. I crave it. 


Today, I had an incredible run. The rain was sweet, but just light enough that it kissed my face. I was right on the side of mountain so I could smell pine trees. At home running is always such a responsibility. It's so much more open in Logan. The air feels cleaner, although I'm sure I'll question the validity of that statement in December. 


Also, I was in Logan Canyon tonight celebrating Sarah's birthday. Everything about it screamed fall. The crunching yellow leaves, the air just nippy enough to be wonderful, and the fact that there were no bugs. I love nature. 


I sat and looked at the stars for a while and wondered how so many people can't believe in God. It overwhelms me. There are hundreds of tiny things that happen to me everyday that reaffirm that my Savior is standing by me. Of course, I haven't been in the shoes of others. I just wish they could feel what I do daily. Resounding happiness and peace. Where would I be without it?

Comfort Songs

The past few days my mood as been unfulfilled...like I'm missing something. My Ipod has literally been stuck on these songs. I can't describe it, but when sometimes music hugs me. It tells me that everything will fall into place.

The unfulfilled playlist:

Cue the Sun- Daphne Loves Derby

I Will Follow You Into the Dark-Death Cab for Cutie

Pollen and Salt-Daphne Loves Derby

We Are Going to be Friends-The White Stripes

Never Say Never-The Fray

Boston-Augustana

Some random Iron and Wine 

The Freshman- Jay Brannan

Joshua Radin 

I'm curious as to what songs have the same effect on others. Usually I don't ask this, but leave me a comment. In my creative arts, we've been talking about what music does to the brain. Depending on personalities, different music speaks to people in different ways. It intrigues me. 

Plus, I'm always up for something new. 

Clean

It's one of those wonderful Logan days when the rain drizzles for hours, and then leaves the air feeling so clean and cool that I wish I was running for miles and miles, rather than being perched in front of my laptop screen for hours reading an e-textbook. Boo technology.

There's just something about rain that clears my soul a little. Earlier today, I wrote the following in my journal (Yes, my non-public, all-to-myself-except for-at-this-moment journal) : "I feel like a thousand elephants have had a fun little stampede on my body. My eyes itch, my head hurts, and my mouth feels like the Sahara desert."

I've had a general air of nastiness about me today, but sitting on my bed with the window open watching the setting sun play against the dingy white walls of my room makes everything...better. I'm a writer without words.

I'm a blog stalker. I can count on one hand the number of people who read this blog. I've found three or four really incredible blogs this week and without exception, every one of them has written something to the effect of what I said above.

"Nobody really reads this"

"I only write this for my family"

"I'm sure no more than ten people have read this"

It's eye opening. Such good writing should be showed to the world. Or maybe not. For now, I'll just be the creep who randomly knows 1001 random facts about your life. It's like Facebook, but better because good blogging requires talent.

Facebook, not so much. It's a funny thing. I had Facebook before almost anybody else, but I deactivated it a year and a half ago, right as it was catching on. Except for that first week of withdrawals (If you've done it you know what I mean) I've never been tempted it get it back.

 I much prefer poking people in real life than on the internet.

The Girls of 203

Kicking some BYU booty. 

Can you say "Aggie"?

Jerking

Wah wah wah wah (I'm a jerk)
Why I trippin you ain't even do nothin (I'm a jerk)
I'm a jerk I'm ain't neva lie
But aye do me a favor call me jerk one more time(I'm a jerk!)
I know
I'm a jerk! (I know) [x6]

Jerk jerk jerk (jerkin)
Jerk jerk jerk(jerkin) [x15]


I haven't been the best person today. Sometimes I just want to slap myself. 


I'ma, I'ma, I'm jerk. 

Feet

Today on the way home, Allee stepped into a muddle (a literish allee-ism for mud and puddle). Because of this, she had to remove her shoe.

Basically, she hopped down 1200 E. with one shoe on.

She sees an extremely attractive runner boy, with those running shoes that are made to form fit your feet.


Allee really wants a pair. Tisha says they're only for people who can run a hundred miles a day. We'll work on that.

The boy looks at her funny, because she only has one shoe while he has super-hot-running-feet shoes. Meh.

After she had been home a while, she looks at the clock and realizes she is late for her news meeting. She grabs the ugliest pair of flip-flops to ever grace the Jones hall carpet (which desperately needs to be vacuumed, btw), and rushes out the door. She gets to the news meeting, passing by her editors at the front of the office who probably think she's just run a marathon because she's panting like a over weight golden retriever. She looks around, and realizes she's 24 minutes early.

She walks back past her editors.
And feels quite foolish.

FIN.

A dai een ze laf...

Allee awakens at 6 a.m., losing one full hour of sleep just so she can go to the 7th floor of the business building to for an interview, because she's a journalist or something. She sits in bed for a full three minutes, pondering why the sun comes up so early. She reluctantly crawls out from under a foot or so or quilts, and is confused. The temperature of the air slightly resembles Alaska. Why, she says, just three hours ago it was eighty degrees in this room. Either Al Gore's predictions are coming true at an alarming rate or, oh yes. In her sleepy haze she remembers that the lives in the weather schizophrenic city of Logan, Utah.
She slips on a lime green hoodie that comes with a seizure warning on the tag. Just don't stare at it too long. She walks out of the room contact-less, with a face comparable to a Naked Mole Rat. Just in case you were deprived of Disney Channel as a child, see picture below.

In a sleepy frenzy, she gnaws on some oatmeal that didn't quite cook all the way, and runs out the door smelling like applesauce and musty dish rags. She makes it to the interview, albeit ten minutes late, and learns about 135 things she already knew, and 1 thing she didn't. Skip some boring hours of learning. Allee goes to a class where the teacher looks like this:

making Allee feel like this:
 
(About now, you're probably dying because of the freaky animal comparisons)

This teacher starts to pass back group papers, which makes Allee's little heart beat about 600 M.P.M., mostly because her group could only write on a 10th grade level, and big haired girl's battery died before she got to edit. Oh the sorrow.

Turns out, the cat teacher gave the group full credit and simply circled random things and said "good point". Sigh. A man who just happens to be Mark Trahant comes and talks to the class, and makes Allee remember the reasons she's going into journalism (For money and job stability, duh). Although her eyes droop, because she does things like writing blog posts at midnight, she pretty much loves the guy. Heck, he rhymes his twitter news headlines. If we were playing baseball, it would be a triple. Journalism, creative writing, and twitter all rolled into one sickly sweet ball of news.

Allee walks home. Eats. Dies. Studies. Says hi to Cody. Snacks. Studies. And walks back to campus. She tries to smile at people she sees, but they all scurry by because her exhausted smile resembles a scream.


Across the street from the Creamery, she spots a man. He has a hilarious hat, and a hilarious wife, and a hilarious looking sun. Even at thirty feet away, she can tell he's going to stop her. Even when she gives him a scream smile, he taps her shoulder.

"Zee oo naw de plas where de stoodents con booy ice?"

She doesn't have a clue. For all she knows, he could be asking where the nearest mink farm is. She points to the creamery, and the man says "zank zoo". She hopes she didn't mislead the poor random hatted man.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. She watches a movie for a class about a college newspaper that is actually real. Meets a super cute photo journalist. Laughs a little. Walks home in the dark and ponders why she hasn't dated yet.

Home. Study. Eat. Die. Blog.



I know I promised no more animal pictures, but I couldn't help this one. When I grow up, and am unemployed because I got a degree in print journalism, I'll sit all day and make LOLCATS.

unfocus-ed

I can listen to something twice, and remember it for the rest of my life.

I can read a page of biology, and remember it for about 5.3 seconds.

I don't get it.

Too bad I can't get somebody to rap my science textbook.

Hello mister textbook

I am really good at not reading.
And drawing faces on my textbook.
And yes,
that's me.

Fresh-meat.

I have now made it through almost two weeks of living without a mommy, and three days of college classes. Without further ado...

What I've learned from 3 days of being a Freshman
Sleep is a commodity.
I don't actually miss much, except the humor and wit of Steph-en.
Pick boys like you pick watermelon. With care.
With that...baking food for the male sex changes lives.
I like spinach?
Living with roommates is like when I was eight years old and I got to have a sleepover and stay up all night doing stupid things, and then I would crash the next day. Except, it's everyday.
I'm really glad to not be an agriculture major. Or a family and consumer science major. Or a math major.
I'm scared to death to be a journalism major.
Logan is devoid of radio stations.
I am not special. There are at least a thousand people exactly like me.
E-textbooks are the best money saving worst idea ever.
I won't buy toilet paper for my roommates again.
On that note, I really do love my boy-crazy, meowing, ramen noodle cooking, roommates.
Like....a lot. Almost as much as I love laughing at My Super Sweet Sixteen.

And most ironically... I learned I'm not actually a freshman. Just in personality.




Because everybody's mother would let them have a buff, tattooed, european man at man at thier sixteenth birthday party.

One for the kids

Today, as I was passing off my skills to renew my LGT (that's lifeguard lingo for all 'yall that don't know), I became frustrated when I couldn't manage a spinal head hold. It goes like this:

The victim has hit his head, and is at the bottom of the pool. Without the aid of a tube, the rescuer must go to the bottom, grab the victim head first, and swim to the surface.

To the outside observer, it doesn't look hard. Yet, for the life of me I couldn't drag 185 pounds to the surface. Over and over, I would grab the victim by their head only to get a few feet up and not have the strength to kick anymore.

When I finally got the victim above the surface, I couldn't move. It almost seemed like nature was working against me. The more furious my kicks became, the slower I moved. Even my attempts to keep the victim's head above water were foiled when I couldn't keep the weight from sinking my head under.

Today, I was a failure of a lifeguard.

Sometimes in life, I kick so hard that my emotional and spiritual muscles strain. I want to move, but there are weights that make me feel like I haven't covered any distance. And  then, when suddenly I make five or ten yards, I realize there are a thousands of miles left to go.There are times that I work so hard to keep others from drowning, that I let myself slip under the water.

At the same time, I know these are weights that I've strapped into myself. If only I could let them loose. If only. They seem to be embedded in my skin. Removal is a painful process.

It's like when I'm trying to teach a child how to float. Generally, the first hundred times or so all of their muscles tense up and they sink. Even though breathing is such a simple, involuntary task, I have to teach it. I have to tell them over and over "take a deep breath, and relax". And then, there's that moment where they realize all they need to do is fill up their lungs will sweet air.

I'm relearning how to float on the river of life. We'll see how it goes.