Drivin' in style..

March 18th, 2008

Today, I checked out a book on tape called Joan of Ark by Mark Twain. I'm tired of the same old music that is played on the raido and i'm hoping that listening to a book, while i drive, will make the long commute to and from school more interesting. Who knows, eh? It's worth a try.

9th Grade Somethings

Today, I received an email from my friend, Stephanie. She had been looking through old word files on her computer and came across one of our crazy 9th grade English projects. Reading this brought back an infinite number of memories. We were definitely on the weird side, back in the day. Heck! We still are... :) If you so choose to read this be sure and picture a set of teenage girls in totally awesome Renaissance garb. Enjoy!

Fashion and Dress Script

Stephanie: This is the Fashion and Dress Booth, and we will be giving you a little bit of information about the Renaissance Period and the way they dressed. We will demonstrate to you how the Fashion and Dress of that time was extremely important to everyone, as it helped separate those of the different classes: Upper, Middle and Lower.

*Start Skit*

Molly: Abigail sits and sighs, saying,

Brooke: Gown, Gown, where art thou, Gown?

Molly: Suddenly, Diana jumps out, sounding somewhat excited and guilty.

Stephanie: Abigail! There is something I have been meaning to tell you! *sniff* I have your father’s gown!!!!

*Gasps from all*

Ashley: Men of the early Renaissance wore gowns, which were long jackets that reached the floor. The gowns had long sleeves that were puffed out, and both men and women wore very pointed shoes and tight hats,

Molly: Let’s rewind that a little.

Stephanie: I have your father’s gown!!!!

*Gasps from all*

Molly: Abigail looks distraught, and screams,

Brooke: NOOOOOOOOOO! You killed my father’s gown!!!

Molly: Diana smiles evil-like.

Stephanie: No, I AM your father’s gown!

Molly: Abigail, with a confused look, says,

Brooke: that can’t be so! You look more like a cloak!

Ashley: After about 15 years, gowns were discarded, and men now adorned cloaks, which were wider, but much shorter, and revealed the adopted tight pants of a man.

Molly: Diana smiles,

Stephanie: My dear, I think your eyes deceive you! For you must be blinded by your bright jewelry, which shows of your high class!

Ashley: Wealthy women of the Renaissance wore large gowns which usually had pearls or gems sown into them. Also, women wore a lot of jewelry around their necks, wrists, fingers, and even in their hair.

Molly: Abigail laughs,

Brooke: This is not so! Sunglasses have been invented! *whips out sunglasses*

Stephanie: You lie!!!!

Brooke: I don’t! They’re on my bloody face! Now what, pray tell, did my father’s gown look like??

Molly: Diana looks scared.

Stephanie: Uh…ahem…Well, it had…a…FARTHINGALE!! Yes! And a chemise!

Ashley: A farthingale is a hooped skirt spread over wire to give the outer skirts a ‘poor’ and a chemise is a slip-like undergarment to protect out skirts from wear and bodily perspiration and such.

Brooke: No!

Molly: screams Abigail.

Brooke: that is from my mother’s wardrobe! You are a lying, beef-witted footlicker! Don’t you know the penalty for dressing above your social class?

Molly: Diana looks down.

Stephanie: No, I really do have the gown!

Brooke: and you say I lie! Leave my sight immediately, you *begins to sing* Riff Raff, Street rat!-

Stephanie: I don’t buy that! If only they’d look closer! Would they see a peasant?

Stephanie and Brooke together: No ser-ie: they’d find out, there’s so much more to me (you)!

Molly: Abigail looked surprised.

Brooke: Well, what about you?

Stephanie: Well…I know a lot about our history and fashion!!

Brooke: Really? Let’s be friends!

*All Prance off Happily*

.... like I said, "weird."

Bubble Sheet Blues

[As you have probably already guessed... I'm a fan of using my other sources of writing to create blogs. I lack a sense of creativity, I suppose. Hehe. Sooo yeah.... Below is an excerpt of an email that I sent my friend, yesterday. If you're reading this, dear friend, I hope you don't mind me snatching this from our correspondence. Thanks!]


Guess what? *sigh* (and I really did just sigh, too) I had an econ test today, for which I studied hardcore (and by studied hardcore I mean that I seriously crammed) I even stayed on campus until midnight, last night. It was awesome!. I felt prepared, I'm pretty sure that I was prepared, and I think that, answer-wise, I did pretty well on the exam this morning. I took the full hour and was feeling pretty good about the whole situation (I knew that I'd probably missed a few, but hey... this was the best I'd ever felt after an econ exam), and then I turned in the bubble sheet and suddenly every happy emotion I had previously been feeling was replaced with heart-dropping nastiness.

I had forgotten to fill in the bubbles of my name and ID number! My teacher, after noticing this, transformed from her happy nice self into a monster. "You know you're losing 75 points for turning it in like this!" she angrily piped. What am I supposed to say to that? " Yup! I know, I planned it that way. I figured that failing my first test would be the way to go!" Yeah right! I felt retarded. My name was on the bubble sheet line on the opposite side of the paper. Who designed bubble sheets anyhow? The identification bubbles should be on the front so that forgetful/loserish people, like myself, will remember to fill them in. AHHH!

I apologized and asked if she would pity me. Her reply, "It's not my sorry it is your sorry." I was like "I know. Hence why I said I'm sorry not you're sorry." I actually said that, can you believe?!? It was definitely not the best moment of my life. Even with my dumb remark, she did eventually give in to my pleas by letting me buy an opportunity to fill in the stupid bubbles. I ended up sacrificing 15 glorious points!!!!! That is an automatic 85 % ( if I aced the exam... and I know that didn't happen.) I should be grateful for the second chance. 15 points is definitely better than 75!!!!! Stupid bubble sheet. I had my name on everything, even the bubble sheet... just not in the bubbles. :(

After this annoying escapade, I ended up losing control of my emotions and bawling in the girl's restroom. It was pathetic. I couldn't stop crying and I'm not an attractive crier. I managed to pull myself together enough so that I was only a few minutes late to my next class. I think my teacher forgave me for being late the instant I walked through the door, due to my red face, blood-shot eyes, and puffy cheeks. I received the "are you alright?" look from everyone. It was nice to know that they all care about my well being, but still... Crying because of a bad grade-- a total Brooke thing to do and yet very embarrassing. I hate it when high hopes are crushed so unexpectedly.

Road Trip Creativity

Road trip ideas are always the best. I'm the only writer in my family so our creative genius comes out in film productions instead of novels. We make crappily amazing movies and have a lot of fun. I know that some of our best movie scenes were thought up on long car rides to family reunions (and other vacation spots). Such epics include: Lord of the Toe Ring, Attack of Sponge Bob, The pioneers, Thumpdrag, Guess that Film, The War, Saving Private Ryan II, and the list goes on.

Love...A Very Short Summation of the Good the Bad

The Good

Romance is nice, but only if both parties are "in like" or "in love" with each other. There is nothing as exciting as having someone you are attracted to be attracted to you. It is definitely a self-esteem booster. This may be an amazing experience, but...

The Bad

I've experienced many a heartbreak because I chose to fall for guys who didn't feel the same way about me. I don't care who says it or how it is said, but the "let's just be friends"/"I like you, but not like that" speech always hurts. Dating, I've decided, trains young people to expect rejection. What else is a person supposed to expect after putting his or her heart out there over and over, just to get it ripped to shreds every time.

Burning Money

07/04/07

My fourth of July was pretty good, this year. A bunch of family got together, at the grandparents' house (as usual...). The food was good, the company was even better, and of course the fireworks were explosive. We (my siblings, cousins, and I) basically spent the evening hours "burning our money". <--- That is what my mom calls our little pirotechinc display. We bought a few boxes of pop its, about 100 sparklers, and two show boxes. With the clever usage of duct tape and a hammer, several prodigious bombs were constructed. It was some ear throbbing/eye blinding goodness....

Passion

I really need to be more passionate about giving my all in everything that I do. Lately, it feels like I've been thoughtlessly and carelessly going through the actions of life. I used to be so excited to be alive and to learn new things. Now, I feel numb to the world and everyone/thing in it.

This past weekend, at my friend's house, my friend's dad went on for about 20 minutes about a book he has been reading and the history that goes along with it. He seemed so intrigued and exited to share what he had been learning. It was amazing and I loved every moment! His enthusiasm made me realize how much I need to change. Because of this, a bit of passion has been aroused from within me and it has made me want to try and be more excited about my daily tasks and hobbies. Haha, whenever I say the word "try", I hear Yoda's voice in my head stating his famous line:"Do or do not, there is no try." Such wisdom :) . So much for try, I'm gonna do.

Verb, it's what ya do...

And More of My Past...

6/25/07

At Dave's wedding (which was in California), I had as much fun as girl could have.... I suppose. My new sister-in-law was pretty much a scary bridezilla, towards the end of the festivities the poor thing was probably stressed out of her mind). Throughout the whole planning process, she has wanted everything to be just right (and by "right" I mean that everything had to be the perfect shade of baby blue). It was nice to get away from my everyday surroundings and see a few relatives, though.

My parents, grandparents, and siblings shared two rooms at a really cheap motel. When we weren't helping out with reception preparations, we got a chance to do our own thing. During the beginning of our Californian adventure, we did a lot of window shopping. Chino certainly has a collection of little malls!

Also, My eldest brother, his wife, and I skipped church to go to the San Diego Zoo, see the ocean, and party. I hardly ever get to see those two and it was awesome to finally have a chance to hang with 'em (<--- is my rationalization for breaking the sabbath day, haha). The next day, before we headed back on the plane, we (the same siblings just mentioned, my parents, grandparents, and I) took a quick run through of Downtown Disney. My mom and I even looked through the ticket gates, into Disneyland. We couldn't see much, if anything, but it was a free bit of excitement. Okay, okay. It wasn't exactly free. After all, I did end up spending some mula on a Tinkerbell key chain. I wasn't going to spend a dime (I'm trying to save up enough cash for a car, ya know?), but it was gorgeous and I figured that I might not get to go back to LA (let alone Disneyland... not that I was even inside the real thing, but hey...) and I wanted a little souvenir.

We were home for about three days when my pop decided that we should go to the Lott family reunion. So, that is where I have been all weekend. My grandparents have a ranch up in northern Washington (basically on the border of Canada). Every family reunion, that I can remember, has been held there. I have so many good memories of hiking up the mountain, messing around with my cousins, playing on the beach of the Colombian River, shopping in Canada, running around the RV park (that my grandparents own), having bonfires, going on hayrides, doing service projects, feeding the animals, watching and being apart of family musical ensembles and skits, making movies (of course... :)), and the list is pretty much infinite. This trip just wasn't the same, though. All of my brothers are grown up and couldn't come (due to jobs and honeymoons) and all of the cousins, that I am close to, weren't there (except for a few who showed up on Saturday). I had a hard time connecting with most of the kids. I did, however, enjoy my time with all of the adults, which is a new thing (for that side of the family). It is good that-- because I am constantly around adults-- I can now enjoy real conversations with my aunts and uncles, but I seriously need to keep in better contact with my little cousins. I hate awkwardness, especially with members of my own family!

We left Boise on Friday morning, bright and early, and arrived about 10 hours later. The car ride to North Port is hard on person's rear-end and legs... "ouch". I was crammed in the back of my dad's pickup truck. By the end of the road, my southern half was starting to go numb! It was a long trip to have only stayed one full day, but that is just we did. Saturday was slam packed day full of the usual family reunion activities. And on Sunday, before everyone went to church we had a family photo, picked up a piano (my dad is never way from his job, I swear), tied it down in the back of the truck, and headed home (for a long 13 hours of travel time). With the piano in the back, we had to be extra careful, and so... "put, put, put," we went, around the windy mountain roads. "Slow and steady wins the race", or-- at least-- that is what they say. :)

Anyways... Like I mentioned previously, it feels like heaven to be home.

Variety = Quite a Task

6/20/07

The one problem I face, with reading, is that I seem to get stuck in a genre of books that has one basic format. For example: all of the Jane Austen novels have young women looking for love, who fall for lying "evil" men or face great opposition in love, but every single one of them ends with a perfect match-- gallant and handsome chaps who have been in the stories all along. Similar forms are alright, I suppose. After all, I do enjoy a good happily ever after plot line, but I wish that writers would a get a bit more creative and less obvious. I, being a writer, am probably going to eat my own words. I know that coming up with a story bursting with edge and intrigue is most likely not an easy task. Seeing as how I've never finished any of my stories, I'm not one to be talking, now am I? :)

Also... I really need to broaden my horizons in the genre department. If i don't like a particular type of story or am annoyed by an author's choice of words or plot lines, then I need to go out there and find something else to read. haha.

Another Look Back: Nerdy Registration

6/11/07

My life is still crazy-- awesome, but crazy. I am getting all sorts of calls and e-mails from prospective music students. My tutoring job is on hold until school starts up again, though. My piano teacher decided that he was too far behind, before we even had one session, and dropped the class. I like math, but I wouldn't consider myself a whizz. Speaking of math, what think ye of the following: I have to take 4 more credits of an area III course. I am scheduled, right now, to take a Physics class entitled: Planets and Astrobiology. I also could take Calculus (with my brother). Both will be hard classes... "Argg!" Would homework every night (for a math class ) be worse than the lab write-ups and etc. (for a science class)? I'm not sure. It probably doesn't matter, one way or the other, and I'll end up hating myself for choosing either. I enjoy science, and find space/planets very fascinating, and yet I have a strange desire to to tackle Calculus (Perhaps, this is because I would have taken Calc, in high school, and I don't want to miss out on anything.... Nerdy, I know).

Goodbyes

I hate saying goodbye to loved ones. I'm one for waterworks when it comes to an adios. It is so hard to live far away from everyone (or a lot of people). You know the saying/song, "it's a small world...?" Well, I am of the opinion (at times of parting) that the world couldn't be any bigger or more spread out. *Sigh.*

Also, losing loved ones hurts sooo much! Even if you know that they are in a better place, it is still painful. Death is such a reality check. I sometimes forget that this life doesn't go on forever. No one knows how long they have to live. I guess that I tend to picture myself living to be an old woman, when in truth, I could very well die tomorrow. Wow... I guess all we can do is hope to be ready. *Sigh* (yet again).

A Look Back: It's Summer Again

5/14/07

I'm glad school is out! I'm not sure that the reality of summer has actually sunk in. Maybe it is that I'm afraid to see my final grades and am in a state of denial. I've been avoiding broncoweb/blackboard, all weekend. It is not like I can do much about my grade, at this point, but I'd rather not know my test scores, if said test scores are disgusting. You know the old saying, "ignorance is bliss?" Yeah... touche' goes out to whomever first spoke such wisdom. Not that its original meaning had anything to do with college finals. Ha, I laugh. Okay, so I probably did fine. *Sigh.* It is just that my motivation level had dropped into the negatives, during the last few weeks of school and it is extremely hard to do anything, let alone study, during such dips of will power. Then again, it is not like I didn't study... I DID, but I feel like I could have done better. Oh well... WOOHOO!!! SCHOOL'S OUT, FOR THE SUMMER!!! I'll be happy now... :).

What's in a Name?

5/11/07

Don't ya love how friends tend to give out random endearments. I've been called all sorts of things (Brookie, Brokee, Brooklynne, Brook-a-lyn, Brooklynnderson, Bond, Burp, Zipper, Jessica, Magdalena, Schmookie ,and etc.). The list just keeps getting bigger. Good times? Sure, why not. Do I have a favorite nickname? Not really. As long as the person using the nickname and the nickname, itself, are a decent combination, all is well. I'm going to have to say, though, that Brooklynnderson has a creative zing to it. :)

Why do we give nicknames, anyhow? Any ideas? In the words of Shakespeare: "What's in a name?" After all, "a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet."

I have a cousin who's parents gave him the middle name of Korky. It was, though, recently changed to Johann Henry, a common family name on his father's side. He went from a little strange name to one that is now monstrously long. Who's to say which is worse? What do you think? How would you like to bubble in the following (on forms and such), the rest of your life? My cousin's new name is 88888 88888 88888 888888888-888888888. Phew, just typing it makes me want to take a nap!

My middle name has no genealogical significance, but it is lovely. In fact, once or twice, I almost considered having people call me by my middle name. What would that be like? Hmmm... I don't know. I was blessed with three very nice names and will respond gladly to any of them. What can I say, my parents did well. :)

You're How Old?

5/5/07

People tend to think that I am older than I really am. I suppose it is probably just assumed, because of my collegiate circumstances. At least, hopefully this is so. I would rather not simply look older, especially in the latter years of my life. Being a 40-year-old with an 80-year-old's appearance does not sound very appealing.

General Eds

3/14/07

General Eds have not been my favorite aspect of college, but it is certainly nice to nibble on a wide selection of fields and topics. I have a feeling that I'm going to miss the variety, when my focus is completely on my chosen degree. I'll have English coming out my eyeballs!

Declaring a major does seem almost too concrete (kind of intimidating (not that a slab of concrete is intimidating... Unless, of course, you are randomly falling to your death)). I am pretty sure I've decided on a good one, for myself, but a shade of doubt makes its way through my thoughts, every once in a while. A person can change his or her major, of course, but I'd rather not take "forever" to get through school because of such indecision. Ya know?

The Ups and Downs of Me

3/6/07
Remember how I told you about my mood issues, and how sugar makes me feel diseased, etc.. Well, as of late, the diseased feeling has been extra terrible, and I've been shaky with heart spasms, and such. It has not been very enjoyable, to say the least. Thyroid issues, and blood sugar level problems have a history of occurring in folks from both sides of my family. Because of this information, and the pure fact that my issues were really rubbing on my nerves, I headed to the good old doctor's office. I told him my symptoms and he agreed that it could be the two problems mentioned previously. For testing purposes, I had an EKG and my blood drawn. I'm a wuss when it comes to needles, and almost passed out. I had a good nurse, though, and she only needed to jab me once. THANK GOODNESS! With the test results, we've decided that I am hypoglycemic. This explains a lot. My hard past months, with bipolar mood swings, were probably caused by low blood sugar. I'd go and buy a blood sugar level tester but I'd never use it because of my insane phobia of needles. I can handle other people poking me (if I have to, I guess) but when it comes to the stabbing of myself... such thoughts are NO GOOD. "The horror!" I mean I've tried to do the poke your finger thing. It failed miserably, and I ended up in tears. It sounds ridiculous, and it is ridiculous, but it is true.

*Anyways*

As i was sayin'... I am starting up a "Happy Brookie" food schedule. This schedule requires that I eat something about every two hours. It is kind of annoying, but totally worth it. Snacks that contain a mother-load of protein have become my best friends. It is amazing how much a person's health affects everything else in life.

Early Morning Predicaments: Segment III

Here Cometh the Flood

Falling in and out of a freezing and uncomfortable slumber, Brooke began to dream. She could the see headlights of a car coming up the road. It was stopping in front of her house! In the haze of her subconsciousness, she excitedly watched as a young man walked up to the truck. Jason, one of Brooke's friends (who was leaving for BYU), had come to her rescue!

"Hey!" He said. "So... I kept getting this really random image of you dressed as Princess Leah and calling out, 'Jason, you are my only hope.' I figured that, since I couldn't get your princess Leah-ness out of my head and the roads are kind of slick, I'd better check to see if you made it home okay."

"Jason! Princess Leah, huh? Telepathy really does work!!!" she happily spouted.

"What about Telepathy?"

"Umm, never mind"

"Ok...?" he replied, looking slightly confused. "But, if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing in there?"

"Oh, you know," she sarcastically answered. "A girl can't help but enjoy the luxury of sleeping in a Ford pick-up, once in a while. The Ameritel Inn charges a bank-load for one night in their 'Hitch-hiker's Abode' room, but I'm all about doing the real thing for free. First class dirty towels, old t-shirt coverlets, plastic arm-rest pillows, a glorious windshield view of the night sky.... It's the perfect sleeping arrangement!! NOT!"

She explained the truth of her situation to him and they shared a laugh as he proceeded to open her door. She was free, at last! Stepping down onto the icy pavement, she thanked him. "What a gallant thing for you to do, kind Sir... opening a lady's door and all." She giggled and enthusiastically hugged her liberator.

After their joyous embrace, Jason's nose suddenly began to shine. It beamed brighter and brighter, until his whole body was gone. It was as if, due to a case of spontaneous combustion, he had been reduced to nothing but fire. The next thing she knew, the setting and objects in her mind mutated until the ceiling of the truck blurred into view.

Waking from her dream, Brooke was glad to know that Jason hadn't really burst into flame. All lovely thoughts of him and his rescuing her were smothered, though, by the sad reality of her early morning predicament. Having found tape, in the jockey box, she had decided that sticking a piece of cardboard over the cab light would block most of the glare. This had assisted her in sleeping more comfortably. Apparently, though, her tape job had failed and the cardboard barely dangled above her. Having the light revealed again, disturbed her dream and she was anything but pleased. "So much for sleeping in darkness, not that I was really getting much sleep."

The inside of the car was cold enough, when she was exerting energy, but the chill worsened as she lay still. Wondering if a change in position would do her any good, she sat up. The vertical movement brought an unexpected pressure upon her bladder and she knew that, unless she could find some way to relieve herself in the next minute or two, the future of her dad's truck interior would not look or smell very pretty. She had managed to forget about her full bladder, until now. At this point, though, no manner of mind-control tactics could spare her.

With crossed legs, she looked about for some sort of container that would be suitable for the task that she dearly wished to perform. Boxes would not do; she was not about to deal with soggy cardboard. Plus, thoughts of the stench from an open box full of urine was enough to trigger her gag reflexes. The cranks of her creative brain were turning at high speed. Every object in sight suddenly became a science project. Could she somehow transform a flashlight into a toilet... ish... object. "No." How about a camera case? "Not really." Perhaps, a water bottle would do the job. "Or not," she snapped, wishing-- for the first time in her life-- that she was a boy. "If I could only aim!"

Concluding that her inventive skills lacked, she decided to give prayer another chance. After all, she had done what she could and was now in need of a serious miracle. "Please, Heavenly Father, I need your help!" she whispered. "Surely you love my daddy enough to save his car from an explosion of my bladder. I need to pee, like no other, and I need you to help me get out of this car before it happens! PLEASE!!!!!!!" She closed her little prayer in the name of the Savior and then tried her lot at using faith. Grabbing the handle, she took a deep breath, and pushed against the door.

Even without the use of thee's and thou's, Brooke's prayer was answered and the door flew open as if it were never jammed! Her response: "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH!!!! I'm free... I have to pee, but I'm free! Yes!!! Bathroom, here I come!"

It may be hard to believe, but-- with the stinging wind-- the temperature outside of the truck felt lower than that of her previous imprisonment. She would almost prefer to remain huddled on the seat of the truck, but she knew that she needed only to trek to the backyard, through the sliding door and into the house to be warm and one step closer to emptying her gallons.

"I'm almost there" she encouraged herself, as she waddled over the icy ground. As she reached patio, snow began to fall. "Please be open," she pleaded, yanking on the sliding glass door. It flew open as easily as did the door to the truck (after her final prayer, anyways) and she felt a hint of warmth as heat found its way past the blinds. Her hands reached in, to move the blinds out of the way, and felt that a chair was blocking her path. "Are you kidding me?" she murmured. "Honestly!" Crouched on the ground, with every muscle in her body devoting itself to the cause, she wasn't sure if she could spare enough strength to push anything out of the way, without losing control.

Figuring that the chair would need to be moved for her to enter the house, whether she wet herself while moving it or not, she stood up. In a matter of seconds her muscles seemed to give up the fight. It was as if a dam had broken! A flood of pee burst forth with great force and in one full and continuous flow! A warm wetness rushed down her legs, darkening her jeans and forming a yellowish puddle in the snow. She was sure she'd never urinated so much in her life. If she hadn't stopped soon, her back yard might have become one very large frozen pond!

She was much relieved, when her tank had fully emptied and-- looking down at herself-- she easily converted feelings of embarrassment into gratitude. She would have preferred the comforts of her warm bathroom, but decided that it was definitely better to have a puddle of frozen Brooke Pee on the patio as opposed to a mess of nastiness on the carpet of the hallway.

The extra warmth felt nice, at first, but her clothes soon started freezing to her skin. Before any icicles had a chance to form, she stripped off her soaked clothes, pushed the chair out of her way, and streaked upstairs. Desperately, she hoped to remain unseen. In her opinion, running into her father (while sporting nothing but her birthday suit) would have been quite disturbing. "No thanks!" she thought, quickly tip-toeing to her bathroom. "I have had enough excitement for one morning."

After tossing her dirty clothes into the tub, she rinsed them and herself off with soap and water. She then readied herself for bed, peeled out her hardened contacts, and jumped into her gloriously soft bed. "It's over," she sighed with relief.

The clock on her bedside table read 6:04 a.m.. It had been hours since she had said goodbye to her friends and headed home. As she lay there, wrapped in three fluffy comforters, her thoughts replayed all of the events of the night. She smiled as she remembered how God had heard and answered her prayers. She had been very blessed. And what a story she would have to tell, if ever she was to give a talk on the power of prayer!!! Closing her eyes, she could picture her frozen puddle of pee and it made her laugh. "Try and catch me complaining about cold toilet seats, ever again," she whispered to her pillow as she hugged it tight and slipped peacefully into a restful sleep.

The End.

Early Morning Predicaments: Segment II

Failed Attempts at Telepathy

"Well this is quite the situation; now, isn't it? What more am I supposed to do?" Brooke piped, feeling more and more annoyed at herself (for getting locked in the car), her dad (for having a car with useless doors), and everyone/everything in the world (simply because she was not in a good mood).

She was sure that her parents would eventually stir (to go to the bathroom or something of the like), notice that the lights were left on and the door not locked, and decide to check on her. All, but the latter, of these thoughts were correct. As she sat in the lit truck, feeling like a fish in a fish tank, Brooke watched the house as the lights were switched off. Neither her mom nor dad came out to retrieve her and she was saddened as a bit of hope faded. Her parents must have seen her things and figured that, because it was so late, she had forgotten to lock the door and turn out the lights.

Many cars sped past and she tried to signal them. Sadly, though, no amount of flailing her arms or endeavors at flashlight Morse Code brought any of them to a stop. She thought about honking the horn and, as an omniscient narrator, I say that she definitely should have. For some reason (low blood sugar, exhaustion, or just plain old stupidity), she decided against the idea and focused on other things.

She began to pray for help: for the door to miraculously open, for someone to come to the rescue, for faith that things would turn out alright, and for some brilliant idea. Nothing seemed to happen-- even with her continuous attempts at slamming against the door, fitting keys, and channeling someone telepathically.

The scene from Star Wars, where Princess Leah is seen recording the message: "Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are my only hope," popped into her head. Surely she could send out some kind of thought wave. "Aren't all humans supposed to be connected spiritually , somehow? Come on, Heavenly Father, help a woman out. Send the Holy Ghost to inform others that I'm having issues, please." With that, she began to focus. She was bent on reaching possible rescuers with her thoughts. "Mike Lott" she said, trying to connect with her dad, "I know you're awake because I just saw you turn off the porch light. Now this may sound ridiculous, but I'm sitting out in your car and would be ever so grateful, if you could come and save me. Please, come and find me!" She repeated this process about a dozen times with several different people and then waited for results.

For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened. Frustration welled up inside her and, all of the sudden, she burst into tears. Every harsh emotion she had been feeling (the stress of an up-and-coming music competition, the emptiness of having her friends leave for school, and etc.) seemed to combine until an emotional bomb formed and exploded. She hadn't had a good cry in ages and her negative energy had found a reason to surface. After a bout of sobs, she luckily found a roll of toilet paper and was able to take care of the after effects of crying .She then resumed her efforts at escape.

Having lost most of her motivation and noticing a dull ache in her shoulder, she decided to give up on body-slamming the stubborn door and turned her focus in another direction.--Sleep. She didn't have access to a clock, but she was sure that quite a bit of time had passed. And besides, she had been partying, non-stop, the past couple of weeks and her young body was yearning for some shut-eye.

Digging through her father's work supplies (piano hammers, tuning kits, and the like), she scrummaged up an old t-shirt and a dirty towel. Covering herself with these, she lay across the seat. Every position she formed was uncomfortable in some way or another, but she didn't care anymore. It was not like she had much of a choice and, seeing as how she was definitely spending the night in her dad's truck, she was determined to get some shut-eye!

Early Morning Predicaments: Segment I

This piece took longer to compose than I thought it would, but (as you can see) the below chunk of writing is rather lengthy (I hope that it isn't too long). At first, this story was to be sent to a friend, through email, but I decided that I'd spice it up by transforming it into an actual story in three parts. Writing about myself in the third person was harder than I originally thought it would be; though, I definitely enjoyed the challenge.

Anyways... Pull up a chair, pop some corn, and prepare yourself for my week's most interesting (if nothing else) adventure.


*clears throat*

Keys to Self-Confinement

Brooke clumsily fumbled through her purse. The air was cold and her hands, searching desperately for her keys, trembled while her body shivered. Her light jacket was barely able to keep the chill out, let alone, the warmth of her body in. Key now in hand, she unlocked her car and jumped in, closing the door behind her. Inserting the key into the ignition, she started the engine and instantly turned up the heat.

The car ride home was one of silence. Her mind was racing-- full of memories of the past and thoughts of the future. After pulling into the driveway, for a moment, she sat there and savored the heat as it rushed out of the vents and brushed against her skin.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the steering wheel,as images from the past few weeks rolled into view. Christmas break had come and gone, for most of her friends, and it was time for them to go back to school. Because of this, she couldn't help feeling a bit depressed. It had been so wonderful to see her old chums and now the time for goodbyes had returned. She hated the thought of not being with them and equally loved the idea of their return. "Then again," she whispered to herself, "it seems like the more I'm with them, the more I become attached, and the harder it is to say goodbye."

At this, she sighed, turned off her car, got out, locked it, and headed into her house. Before she made it up the drive, though, something caught her eye. Turning around, she saw that her dad had left on his truck lights! She laughed, remembering other examples of his forgetfulness/ADHD and then went on into the house to snag a key to his car.

It was about midnight and her parents had already gone to bed. The Christmas tree gave a dim glow, but it was not enough light to assist her in such a quest. Hoping not to disturb her family, she flipped on a few lights, stashed her purse on the counter and began to look for her father's lunchbox (his basic man purse). Due to the fact that he usually carried it with him everywhere and used it to hold all of his things, she figured that it would be a good place to start. It would have been perfect, indeed, had the lunch box been in its usual location.

Instead of a pile of work clothes nestling it against the wall, next to the bathroom. Brooke found only carpet. Seeing the bathroom, though, she realized that it was about time to empty her bladder, but-- because there were more important things to accomplish, first-- she pushed this thought to the back of her mind and continued walking.

Being unsuccessful in spotting her dad's keys out in the open, she decided to check a few drawers and cupboards. Finally, in the kitchen, she came upon a bunch of random solo keys. "I've found the mother load," she sarcastically said as she gathered a handful and headed back out into the cold. "One of these had better work or his lights will just have to stay the way they are." Endeavoring to fit the key into the lock she urged every one of them on, in hope of a match. "Ugg! Come on, little buddy, please work... I have to pee and it's insanely cold out here!"

Finally, just as she was about to give up on the whole charade, the last key of her plethora actually fit into the lock. "I'm in!" she exclaimed. "Now, lets get down to business." Up and in she climbed. After habitually closing the door to her side, she noticed that it was mutilated and momentarily freaked. Reassuring herself, she recalled how her dad had rolled down his window each time he needed to open the door. Doing this made it possible for him to reach the handle from the outside. "No problem," she thought, "I'll turn on the car, fix the lights, and then roll down my window like Dad always does." She then reached into her pocket and grabbed the key that had let her into the truck. After jabbing it into the ignition, she was shocked to find that it wouldn't allow her to start the engine.

"Well, crap... Now what am I supposed to do?" Since it was impossible for her to unroll the window without having the truck running, she was forced to try the other door. It wouldn't let her out, either. The passenger-side door was open enough to keep the dome light lit, but not enough to be of any service. Remembering that she had only unlocked the one door, Brooke quickly clicked the button to unlock the passenger's side door, too. This didn't change a thing.

Pushing and pulling, she used every ounce of her strength to try and move the door enough so that it would either close or break open. She even attempted a few donkey-styled kicks with her feet. Nothing seemed to jar the door more than half and inch. Not even holding the handle and ramming her body against the door did much for her situation. Feeling completely helpless, she pulled out every single key from the pocket of her jacket and tried to squeeze them into the ignition. It was no use and, to her despair, none of them would fit well enough to start the car. As pathetic as it may seem, Brooke had locked herself in her dad's pick-up; she had opened and closed the door to her own self-confinement!