Watch this flash movie. You'll need sound.

Waiting

I'm waiting for my dad to pick me up to go to the airport and realized that I forgot my driver's license. Snap.
But I have my passport. It's okay.

I tried to kill some time while I was waiting and discovered that my parent's overprotective security software won't let me read Devi's blog. But it also won't let me go to american eagle's website.
Abercrombie, on the other hand, is fine.
Go figure.

Why is it that every conversation I ever have with W*rner makes me want to cry?

I'm sitting in the library. When I walked in, a prof was sitting inside one of the study carrels, indian-style, talking to two students about the philosophy of St. Paul. He was also wearing a red satin Indiana jacket.

PSA

I found this link. Be forewarned, ye hopeful dancers.

I'm still looking for a link to post on the previously mentioned editorial.

Hold me closer, tiny dancer....

I was shocked yesterday when Lindsay told me that she'd like me to be interviewed by a reporter from the Democrat-Gazette about my views on JBU's dancing policy*.
But I went, and said that I don't think it should be approved for the following reasons:
1. Its a small price to pay to go here.
2. I don't want the school to be telling me what kind of music I can listen to and what kind of dancing is appropriate. I would prefer to be allowed to be the adult that I am and make these decisions for myself.

(*For anyone who doesn't go here, dancing is not allowed on campus, nor at school-sponsored events, nor allowed to be sponsored by the school. As you can imagine, there are always ways to get around this. Most people who want to dance just go to clubs.)


Then the reporter asked me what I thought of the Advocate's editorial.
Shoot.

Fair and balanced

I know my blog's been a downer today. I can't apologize. It's my life and thoughts. But just to temper it all a bit, I thought I'd add this link.

Bloom where you're planted.

Stay mediocre.

Just so you know...

If I tell you that my friend just died, and your response is the word "Ouch", I think that I am totally justified in telling you to f off.
Just didn't want you to be like Higs and learn that the hard way.

Something really cool about my life right now...

I have an (unsolicited, personal) email in my inbox from Jim Caldwell, the QB coach for one of my favorite players.

Gah...

Inexplicably, the sound on my computer has just decided to quit. Taking a break, speakers? My incessant Kazaa-ing finally got to you? Yeah, I'm talkin', notice the sound.

I don't remember the first time we met.

I wasn't yet able to make memories. I wasn't even technically around yet. Neither was he. We were both still in the womb.
Our parents met in lamaze class and struck up a friendship. Soon after, he and I did, too. We ran around in diapers together. We played G.I. Joe. He had the ugliest shorts with neon green frogs on them that he loved.
He was my first dance partner.
Then his family moved to the Philippines. His dad was going to be a missionary pilot. I was only five and my best friend moved halfway across the world.
They came back every few years. We remained friends, but grew shy around each other during middle school.
When time for college came, I stuck to the area, while he went to military academy. We'd write each other, I'd tell him about my boyfriend, he'd tell me about learning to be a future officer.
Then we lost touch.
I would hear about him every now and then. My mom filled me in when he left the academy and enlisted in the Navy. How he was on a nuclear sub. Seventy days out to sea at a time to an "undisclosed location".
I heard how when he got engaged and when he broke it off. I heard when he started a program to become an engineer. I heard about him playing Rugby for the Navy.
I heard when he got his motorcycle and how he liked to see how fast he could take corners on it.
Yesterday, his mom went to answer the door and two officers were standing there. She said she knew right away.
He was killed.
His own family doesn't even know the details. They just know that their only son is gone.

I'll miss you, Josh.

Mourn the day

It's over. Shed a tear.

Just pretend it hasn't been a while...

This is hard. To come back to blogging after a month. I have stuff to say, but where to start.
Perhaps with the breakdown of Christmas.
I arrived home Saturday after finals. My dad had moved out. My brother was in the hospital. No one had filled me in because the fam didn't want it to affect my exams. I understand why they did it, but 5 days before Christmas, it sucked all the same.
Things are okay. It's been a month. My parents are talking to each other. They're being civil to each other. I think 27 years of being married and three kid makes you friends if nothing else.