Weak.

The ROTC had a big shebang goin' on, today. I was walking to the SUB, observing the craziness, when I caught sight of one of my friends. He, being one of the ROTC guys attempting to get people involved, convinced me to head over to the activities and get some free stuff. Free stuff! What college student isn't always up for free stuff?!?! He led me over and hooked me up. The thing is, though, the "free stuff" wasn't exactly free (besides a selection of camouflage pencils). To get the good stuff, a person was to do some sort of physical activity. I decided to go for a T-shirt by busting out 78 sit-ups and 48 push-ups.

To keep things simple, let's just say that I could have done better. My attempt was pitiful. I did do enough of each to get a nifty U.S. Army water-bottle... Woohoo! You'd think, with all the junk I've carried around the past two semesters, that I'd be in better shape. Then again, carrying backpacks doesn't really work on a persons abs or biceps. I've pretty much decided that the only thing I've gained, from the months of backpacking around campus is bad posture.

I am determined to exercise more often. I do love running. Perhaps, I'll get back into the habit of jogging around my neighborhood. Yoga is awesome, too. Whatever works... Nonetheless, my push-ups and sit-ups definitely need some help. I am weak! :(.

Falalalala

I'm beginning to miss Christmas music and it's only April! Today, I caught myself singing "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas." Could this be a some sort of a Freudian slip? Maybe it's not the Christmas music, per se, that I'm missing. Perhaps, I'm simply craving cheery seasonal music, in general. As of this moment, I am of the opinion that there is a need of popular music for every season. I'm sure, if a person was to dig through archives of music, that he or she would eventually come across songs about spring, summer, and fall. I find myself wishing, though, that these songs were as famous and/or as well liked as the classic Christmas carols. I mean, during the winter holidays, certain radio stations are devoted solely to songs about Christ or good old Saint Nick. No one does this for other holidays or seasons. It's not like we get to hear songs about Peter Cotton Tail, or Saint Patrick when Spring comes around the corner (not that they are as important as the Savior by any means). There are always primary songs like "In the Leafy Tree Tops" and "Oh what Do You Do Summer Time " to hum as I walk about, but I think I am going to do some research and learn some new/old songs. Then, even though the radios aren't busting with seasonal music, I'll be as fit as a fiddle (when it comes to spring, summer, and fall-like melodies).

If you have any good seasonal songs up your sleeve, let me know. "Sharing is caring, it can be fun!"

Still Gettin' Older

My B-day with weak-sauce lungs:
Yesterday was my birthday. "Happy birthday to me!" It was a happy birthday, indeed. You know the years when the celebrations seem to last all week? This is turning out to be one of those years. I had a party at my grandparents' house on Sunday. A lot of my relatives, who live near and around Boise/Meridian, joined us for the festivities. We had cake (well, technically, we had sugar-free cheese cake pudding with gram crackers and strawberries.... mmm), and I attempted to blow out all the candles. You may be wondering why the word attempt made its way into the previous sentence. Blowing out candles seems so simple, right? "Perhaps," you think to yourself, "she had a batch of trick candles to deal with?" Well, not exactly. In all reality, I have never been able to fully complete the said task, properly. I don't have a lot of gusto, apparently, when it comes to blowin' and I always have to take several breaths to get the job done. This is sad, I know. I could probably overcome this deficiency with a bit of practice (EXPAND THAT DIAPHRAGM, WOMAN!!!!) But I don't feel like putting forth the effort. Let's scapegoat this issue and blame the lack of lung capacity (for candle outing) on my asthma, okay? Okay.

Monday:

Monday, felt birthday-ish because I was able to wear a new pair of pants and test out my new rolling backpack. "Goodbye Sir Jansport and Madam Shoulder Bag" [wave of the hand]. No more bad posture! I always thought rolling backpacks were lame, but (with the weight of all of my stuff finally off my shoulders) all bad feelings have flown away. Though the wheels on rough pavement and bricked pathways make quite a racket, I love my new bag and recommend rollers to everyone.

Tuesday:

Tuesday, being my real birthday, was probably one of the best Tuesdays that I've had all semester. I found a strap for my violin case and was able to carry it about, in a more comfortable manner. Briefcase style is a thing of the past, ya know.. ha. Violin lessons were canceled, though, so carrying Betsy (my brother named my violin) around campus was basically pointless. Oh well.

Field trip:

My Biology lab went on a field trip, yesterday (still Tuesday). We had the opportunity to hike around in the desertous foothills of downtown Boise. Three whole hours of bird watching, lizard catching, plant analyzing fun! You should be very jealous. I did obtain a sun burn on my neck and collar bone, though, so the trip wasn't perfect. You'd think that (with all the jazz I stash in my backpack) I'd have sunscreen, somewhere in the depths. I did last semester, for awhile. I suppose a girl can't have a Mary Poppins bag all of the time.

Food, glorious food:

After Lab, mis padres took my brother and me out for lunch. We gorged ourselves (at least I did) full of food, at a Chinese buffet. I ate soo much food that my stomach looked rather stretched out, afterwords. I guess that (because I don't have a lot of meat on my bones) when I fill myself with meat, it's bound to show. Anyways... YUMMY! It was delicious! After this grand feast, Ryan and I hung out at the SUB until our math class. He checked out a laptop and surfed the net/listened to Thai music while I yakked with my cousin, Kahli (who called to give me some birthday lovin'). Yippee for doing anything but math homework at times like these.

Thoughts about the past:

I have recently been contemplating the origin of birthdays and the celebrations that coincide. How long have birthdays been a reason to party? Any ideas? Did Methuselah find time to fiesta, in his 969 years. They obviously kept track of aging. Was a year back then calculated like the modern year? huh...

The Real Man

What is the definition of a real man? Are there actually real men in the world?

What about those who are considered less than the real man? What is the defining line. Where is the differentiating border that separates the "real men" from the "boys" or "woman folk."

I have several friends who are obsessed with being "real men." It is mostly talked about in a playful manner, but it has caused many a thought to bounce around in my noggin.

This is what I mean...

• You can be a man's man and like supposedly feminine things, right? Right.
  
• My dad plants flowers in the garden and my brothers like chick flicks. Does this make them unmanly? No.
  
• I've seen shows discuss/interview gay men. When asked about the circumstances and determining factors of the discovery of their "true" sexuality, ridiculous reasons were usually (if not always) stated. Does liking the color pink distinguish you as a homosexual? It shouldn't. If a man can decorate, good for him. So a guy sings and dances like Gene Kelly, what is so unmanly about that? Etc., etc. Where in Tar Nation did such retarded ideas about men come from? It might not be the norm, but it doesn't have to be warped into gay and lesbian crap.
• When did not liking feminine things become a way of getting a dame? Yes, a girl likes to know her man is a stable source of protection, but she also finds it wonderfully attractive when her oh so strong chico shows his soft side.

Random quote/story from my memory bank =

A group of guys are sitting around discussing how to be real men. Guy to guy, they share their manliness. Eventually, the topic of shaving comes up. The fellows take turns going into great depth about how they supposedly shave like real men. As the narratives go on, the stories get more extreme until finally... dun dun dun... the man's man approaches.

"Ya'll got nothin'," he breathed in a deep scratchy voice. "I wrap barbed wire around my fists and punch myself in the face. It takes the skin right along with the hair, but THAT is how a real man shaves."

yeah.. that is my version... it actually goes on more and is slightly different, but hey.

Give me your thoughts and opinions please.

random ramblings

For a writing exercise, I like to write random paragraphs, poems, and scenes from possible stories. Below are a examples of such. Tell me what you think, please.

Confined

The glass was warm to her touch. With her face against it, she gazed through the window and out into the world. It was a world of which she wished to be a part. If only there was a way. Her heart yearned to run as far as her strength permitted, far from her containment. She knew of nothing else but what lay within the walls of the shelter and what she was able to see through the window. And though it be dirty and covered in dust, she looked out to see as much as she could whenever she had a spare a moment.

Her life hadn’t been bad. She had been provided for, taught to read, write, do arithmetic, and all of the skills that she might need to take care of herself. After her father died, though, that is just what she did; she took care of herself. She was now the only survivor in her family and, for the first time, she felt angry about it. This realization hit and a feeling like fire welled up inside. Emotions engulfed her body, and she couldn’t control them. Tears flowed down her suddenly flushed cheeks. People passed by and she wanted to hide from their pitying eyes. None of them stopped to comfort her and that was just fine. The cause of her pain was loneliness and yet all she wanted, at that moment, was to be left alone.

Little Big Boy

To the average eye Donnelly appeared to be the average child. People couldn’t help but fall in love with his brown curly hair, dark brown eyes, and sandy complexion. Surprisingly, Donnelly was very different from what people thought. The average eye couldn’t think his thoughts, feel his feelings, or experience his experiences. He was more than just an average little boy....

Get off My Lawn

Dream >> girl waken by pebbles on window… when.. CRASH! One breaks the window.

Rubbing her eyes, Ally ran to see who had thrown the rocks and broken her window. She looked outside and saw that a boy stood below. At this, she pushed open the door and ran angrily out onto the balcony.

“What are you doing? It is like midnight!”

This was not at all how he pictured the evening, when he had played it out in his head. “I…I…I…Uh, I love you, “ he squeaked, following through with the original plan.

“What? You just broke my window! What do you want me to say to that! Oh thanks, darling, I love you too.. No! Get off my lawn, I don’t even know who you are! Ugg!”

Growing Up

Blooming

Self-knowledge, self help, self control

Better wisdom which makes good men

Forget and forgive

Under his rough exterior lay some of the manly virtues which we most admire and love

Air of resolution

I’ll stand by you

Good for him

Continue to believe in it, to work for it, and to prove its possibility

You really care to learn something and that is half the battle

It seems hard at first, and you will feel discouraged, but plod away, and things will get easier as you go on

We all need these little helps; so you will try

Splendidest

Work, encouragement, and hope

Passion of love, of shame, and patience

The memory of a wise and tender father, the legacy of an honest name

.

*Words and phrases taken form Little Men by Louisa M. Alcott. “Growing Up” arranged by Brooke Lott.

Saving Scander

Arrows whizzed passed her uncovered body, as she closed her eyes in anguish. She had no chance of escaping. Was this the end? Thoughts of her life flooded her mind. She wasn’t ready to die! Scander’s hurt face crowded her worries and regret overcame her. She loved him! She had been so stubborn and confused. Now she was to die alone, and he would never know of her true feelings. Suddenly in the midst of her worries silence fell upon her. The war had paused. She slowly opened her eyes to look about her. Wincing at the nastiness of her surroundings she bravely picked herself off the ground and began running. She tripped over the carnage and destruction of the battle, her mind was in a daze. What was going on? Was everybody dead?

Chances

The wind pressed against her cheeks, drying her tears as they fell from her swollen eyes. What had she done? Her opportunity was so obvious and she had blown it! She believed in second chances but what happens after that?

Evening Falls

The sky was darkening, explosions of a colorful sunset beginning to fade, and one star twinkled on the horizon.

Stupid Poem

Tossed back and forth with emotion

My heart is heavy, torn in two

I can’t quite decide if you’ve won

I want to leave but can’t seem to start anew.

Your thoughts are unclear

And your feelings unknown

My truth is open, even through my fear

Timid eyes have ceased, and I have grown.

What would my life be like without you?

What if we never met?

Would I be happy, seeing through

An empty doorway to something that is not yet.

Tallmond

.

His eyes were pale and fading, his face wet with sweat. She couldn’t take it all in. This couldn’t be happening, Not here! Not now! He couldn’t leave her alone when she needed him the most. Anger boiled up against the enemy. It steamed inside with the fear of losing her beloved Tallmond. ....WAR!!!!

.

The Unfinished

.

It was a house without clocks or calendars. Time was not kept, no appointments were made, there was no schedule to follow and nothing of importance seemed to happen. Life continued to roll on but there was no reason for anything that anyone did. Actions were random and nothing was ever accomplished completely. Unfinished Quilts lay scattered upon the furniture that wasn’t fully refurnished. The walls were spattered with paint. One side of a room would be mostly white and the other would be partially covered in old, moldy, wall paper.

.

...........................All right. That is enough. I've more in my stash, but I am tired and the above is very lengthy.......................... what think ye?

Can You Hear Me Now?

Cell phones... Remember the days without these little buggers? Now that we have them, I look back and wonder how we ever got a long with out them.
When I leave my phone at home, I'm lost without it. It is like my life, my connection to the world. The more technology moves forward the more reliant we are upon it. It is actually really pathetic and kind of frightening. Then again, I love how easy it makes things.

The Point of No Return

I think I have used up all of the motivation and self-discipline that has carried me through the last few months. There comes a time, when the end of a semester is nigh and grades are pretty much stable, that I simply don't want to care anymore. I have reached this point and any thought of school makes me want to scream... "AAAAWWWW!" <--- Do you see what I mean? I need some kind of a boost to help me just keep chuggin' along. Ugg! Perhaps, if I make a paper chain (like we did in kindergarten), the thrill of taking off one link every day will do the trick.. ha. It's worth a try, eh? Any advice or prescriptions for my serious case of lackadaisicalness?

In My Own Little Corner

In the Rogers & Hammerstein musical Cinderella, the lyrics of one of my favorite songs go as follows:

I'm as mild and as meek as a mouse

When I hear a command I obey.

But I know of a spot in my house

where no one can stand in my way.

In my own little corner in my own little chair

I can be whatever I want to be.

On the wings of my fancy I can fly anywhere

and the world will open its arms to me.

I'm a young Norwegian princess or a milkmaid

I'm the greatest Prima Donna in Milan

I'm an heiress who has always had her silk made

By her own flock of silkworms in Japan

I'm a girl men go mad for love's a game I can play

with cool and confident kind of air.

Just as long as I stay in my own little corner

All alone in my own little chair.

I can be whatever I want to be.

I'm a slave from Calcutta, I'm a queen in Peru.

I'm a mermaid dancing upon the sea

I'm a huntress on an African safari...

it's a dangerous type of sport and yet it's fun

In the night I sally forth to seek my quarry

And I find I forgot to bring my gun.

I am lost in the jungle all alone and unarmed

when I meet a lioness in her lair

Then I'm glad to be back in my own little corner,

All alone in my own little chair.

*******

As most of you know, Cinderella is the story of a girl whose father dies and leaves her with horrid step-relations (a mother and two sisters). She sings the above song when she is away from their nagging and in the comforts of her own space. Isn't it splendid?

*******

I'm afraid I am losing the vivid imagination that I once had and am unable to conjure up situations, identities, and places (without assistance from some sort of media) like she does. It is kind of depressing.... sigh. I do have "my own little corner," though. Well, I suppose I have several of them. My refuges are areas, away from the harshness of life, where I can enjoy being me and doing my favorite things .

*******

Wonderful Places in my life (in no particular order):

1.) THE LIBRARY. I spend rather lengthy amounts of time in the BSU library, otherwise known as Albertson's Library. I love libraries and consider any building full of books as a heaven on earth. It would be nice if the homework aspect of my library experience was edited out, but (even with its tortures) I find that my days under the roof of un(a) bibliotec(a), are usually enjoyable and beneficial. Usually, with a book in my hand and a comfortable arm chair (preferably a recliner), I am good to go.

2.)NATURE. My family and I used to live with my grandparents in the Sun Valley area of Idaho. There was a hill in our backyard that dipped down into a forested area. It was beautiful! I remember being a little girl and having a blast with my cousins and brothers by playing night games (no bears are out tonight, jail break, war, etc...). When I wanted time for self-contemplation, on the other hand, the swing-set (in the forest..of course) was the perfect location. I love nature and, with the smell of the river and the landscape of glorious aspen trees, swinging was almost a spiritual experience! I miss that house.

3.)MY ROOM. My room is decorated with an antique/pioneer girl style. I love being in mi dormitorio! When things are spick-and-span, especially, I love to lay on my bed or just sit in my chair. Reading, writing, drawing, listening to music, and thinking about life fill my many hours of joyous alone time. Also, I have a lot of inspirational paintings and poems hanging from my walls. Because of this, it is wonderful to simply look about my room and be uplifted. If I am having issues in my life, it helps to see a picture of the Savior. There has been many a time when an eternal perspective or a feeling of peace have been prompted by simply looking about. Yippee for my room!

That is all I feel like typing, at the moment. There are other wonderful places I could mention but perhaps I'll keep those to myself... :).

Human Brains and Flights of Stairs

The other day, I noticed something interesting (at least to me). I was in the engineering building, tromping up a few flights of stairs, when I had a moment of realization. The higher the level, the less worn the stairs were. Also, the wearing occurred on the right-hand-side. I thought about causes for such and I could only come up with a few reasons.

First of all, people are naturally lazy. Let's face it; most of us are more likely to take the stairs, if we only have to go to the second floor (notice that I previously said the word "few" when referring to the number of flights I was headed up). The third floor is less likely and above that is a rare occurrence. "Hmmm" is all I have to say to that.

As for the specific location of the wear and tear, this could be due to the fact that our transportation system is set up in such a way that we drive on the right-hand-side of the road. It seems like we are accustomed to choosing the right (ha, CTR... :/). I'm not sure whether this is exactly connected to driving and stair climbing, but I noticed that people tend to stay to their right when walking, as well.

Is this different in other countries? If we were to drive on the left-hand-side of the road would we go up stairs and walk about differently than we do now? Can any of you (who have been on missions or have traveled to to other countries) answer my question? I am very curious. Is there some sort of psychological reason for the above mentioned or topics of the like? Perhaps, I can do a Google search of some sort....

It is fascinating to analyze human kind-- the way we think and our habitual ways. We are definitely an interesting species!