LTWR8B Poem 1

After editing my poems for a few days straight, which by the way is very emotionally straining and intense, I decided instead of having the page on my blog, I would put up a series of entries that shows the original poem and the final revised version I turned in. This is the first one--unfortunately none of the formatting stays the same when I put in an actual post, so I apologize. I swear these two poems look a lot cooler. The format also has to do a lot with the tone and feeling I'm trying to convey, so I'm sorry if that gets lost in the technological transition.

Obsessively Compulsive

A torturous tip-toe terror.

And more

Piles. And more

And more Piles.

Piles.

Bottles, receipts, mitten 2, trash, hats, glasses. Pens and pencils.

Blankets, trash, wrappers, lists, pictures, postcards. Clothes and laundry.

Bedding, tissues, food, mitten 1, mail, trash. Newspaper and magazines.

Always filled.

Books

Papers. Books

CD’s and And more.

Records.

Arranging, shifting, switching. Start again.

Layering, lifting, classifying. Completely lost.

A dangerous and dirty, disorderly disorder.

Compulsion.

And more

Piles. And more

And more Piles.

Piles.

Glassbottles,fiftytworeceipts,trash,Mitten2.BlackinkBicBallpointpens.Blackticonderogapencils.

Shoes,trash wrappers,Pictures,Postcards,lists.clothesandlaundry aMass in Masses of Mountains.

Books

Papers. Books

Mitten 1 and And more.

Records.

Arranging,shifting,switching. start Again.
Layering,Lifting,cleaning. completely Lost.

LTWR8B Poem 2

After editing my poems for a few days straight, which by the way is very emotionally straining and intense, I decided instead of having the page on my blog, I would put up a series of entries that shows the original poem and the final revised version I turned in. This poem was supposed to convey and ambiguous or unreliable narrator. Apparently I didn't do as well with that in the original and a lot of people thought it was someone trying to make their lover jealous (everyone thought a lot of my poems were that-- what the heck, people? Stop projecting on me. Just because you have love troubles doesn't mean that I do, capiche?), so I had to fix that too.

You Believe Me

When I tell you I’m not crazy,
You believe me.
And when I tell you the Moon
Fell down from the sky tonight,
You believe me.
And when I tell you He swung
From star to star on His way
Down from the infinite heavens,
Landing with a soft thud at
The end of Prince Street,
And He rolled the gritty
Asphalt, stopping right in front
Of me, bowing politely
As His genteel introduction,
You believe me.
And when I tell you, without words,
The Moon took hold of my hands
And brought them together
For a gentle kiss before
Flinging them wide into a circle
And dancing barefoot
In a placid prance of hilarity
Under the familiar galaxies and starbursts
Of inequitable phenomenon,
You believe me.

You believe the dance lasted all night
And you believe there was love.

When I tell you the Moon
Tucked me into bed tonight,
Tousling my auburn hair about
The pillow, and, whispering sweet
Nothings into my ears, He
Gracefully moved from the bed
To and through the window looking onto
His night skies
Now growing in glow,
You believe me.

You Believe Me

When I tell you the Moon
Fell down from the sky tonight,
You believe me.
And when I tell you He swung
From star to star on His way
Down from the infinite heavens,
Landing with a soft thud at
The end of Prince Street,
And He rolled down the gritty asphalt,
Stopping right in front of me
You believe me.
And when I tell you the Moon
Took hold of my hands,
Squeezing them gently before
Flinging them wide into a circle
And dancing barefoot
In a placid prance of hilarity
Under the familiar galaxies and starbursts
Of inequitable phenomenon,
You believe me.

When I tell you the Moon
Tucked me into bed tonight,
Tousling my hair about the pillow, then
Gracefully He moved from the bed
To and through the window looking onto
His night skies
Now growing in glow,
You might believe me.

When I tell you the Moon
Fell down from the sky tonight
You tell me I’m lying.
You tell me you saw the Moon
Resting amongst the stars,
Watching over the world
As they slept soundly in their beds,
The whole night long.
You tell me He winked at you
Before you laid down for the night
And sang a lullaby as you fell asleep.
You tell me He never fell.
You tell me He never moved an inch.
And I believe you.

LTWR8B Poem 3

After editing my poems for a few days straight, which by the way is very emotionally straining and intense, I decided instead of having the page on my blog, I would put up a series of entries that shows the original poem and the final revised version I turned in. I would like to say that I no longer feel this way about said person and that we are on civil, almost friendly terms with each other after a lot of communication and a lot of time. I just added the name at the end of the poem to make it more interesting.

To Blake: If Only I’d Known

Things are really never as they seem.

My eyes are stars, you say?
Your eyes are the dark, deluded depths
Of an oil tanker truck, filled with
Murky disgrace.

My smile is captivating, you say?
Your smile is my captor, beating
Me mercilessly over the head as he
Laughs and laughs a menacing
Awkward squalor.

My love is divine, you say?
Your love is a cockroach, running
From the light and doting to the dark,
Surviving squashings and apocalypse,
Enduring when all just simply
Want you dead.

To Mr. B. Schack: If Only I’d Known

Things are never really as they seem.

My eyes are stars, you say?
Your eyes are black holes,
Empty voids of nothingness—
Vacuums where I cannot last.

My smile is captivating, you say?
Your smile is my captor,
My torturer, my executioner, my end—
Violent, merciless, menacing, breaking
Bones and hearts.

My love is divine, you say?
Your love is a cockroach, fleeing
From the Light and doting on the Dark,
Surviving squashings and apocalypse—
Enduring, when all just simply
Want you dead.

LTWR8B Poem 4

After editing my poems for a few days straight, which by the way is very emotionally straining and intense, I decided instead of having the page on my blog, I would put up a series of entries that shows the original poem and the final revised version I turned in. I'm not adding the original poems onto this entry as there are two and they're very long. I also didn't edit much so you're not missing anything. The formatting, also important to the first poem, was also technologically revised unfortunately. I think I'll leave it up on the "Practice Makes Perfect" page so you can see it if you want.

An Interview, Pt. 1

“You have a very interesting mind,”
She said, sitting down
Across from me at the table.
I don’t know about that.
A conversation starter for
A conversation I didn’t want started.
“I’d rather like to take a look inside.”
She meant my cerebellum,
My corpus callosum,
My amygdala,
But I didn’t correct her.
I don’t know why.
“Every word going through your mind is
pertinent.
I don’t know why you don’t write
your thoughts down
More.”
Because I’d rather
Not let anyone
See inside.
“Why don’t you share them?”
Because I’d rather
Censor what people see,
Give each person a version of myself
That I’ve cultivated for them.
So that each person has a
P i e c e
And no one has a
Whole.
“Why don’t you savor them?”
I don’t know who I’m saving it for,
But I certainly don’t want it
And I only show God
My thankful side.
This all happens inside of me but
I only give her a
P i e c e—
“I don’t know.
I just don’t think they’re that
important.”

Importance

I write in prose, ok?
I don’t think I need to ask permission.
I don’t think in free verse or sounds.
I don’t think either are bad,
I don’t think like that.
I don’t think everyone should though.
I don’t think world would be better.

I write in sentences, ok?
I like ending with a period.
I like the quick jab of my pen at the end of a long, elegant, complex line.
I like their connotation.
I like subjects and predicates.
I like having a sense of propriety.
I like it when things are final.

I don’t write poetically, ok?
I don’t like writing in rhythm and
I don’t like writing in rhyme.
I don’t like alliteration, anaphora, apostrophe.
I don’t like sonnets or sestinas.
I don’t like villanelles or ghazals.
I don’t like what I’m saying.

I’m just a girl, ok?
I think I’m figuring things out.
I think writing is a part of me.
I think there’s more though too.
I think there’s a lot more.
I think I need to write things down more.
I think it’s all important.

I write in prose, ok?

LTWR8B Poem 5

After editing my poems for a few days straight, which by the way is very emotionally straining and intense, I decided instead of having the page on my blog, I would put up a series of entries that shows the original poem and the final revised version I turned in. This poem is a ghazal.

Of The Dinosaurs

I wish I could have lived in the time of the dinosaurs.
I think I would have liked the life of the dinosaurs.

I wish I could have been a brontosaurus or a corythosaurus.
I think I would have played in the nightlife of the dinosaurs.

I wish I could have seen the tyrannosaurus in battle, all teeth.
I think I would have been scared of the knife of the dinosaurs.

I wish I could have watched the babies hatch and grow.
I think I would have been a good wife of the dinosaurs.

I wish I could have roamed the unspoiled lands of the earth.
I think I would have enjoyed the nightlife of the dinosaurs.

I wish I could have saved them from the meteor.
I think I would have handled the strife of the dinosaurs.

I wish I could stop people from making fun of me.
“I think Chelsey would like the afterlife of the dinosaurs!”

Of The Dinosaurs

I wish I could have lived in the time of the dinosaurs.
I think I would have loved the sight of the dinosaurs.

I smile when I see the sheets covering my bed—
The bright colored creatures over cream colored bones of the dinosaurs.

I wish I could have been a brontosaurus or a corythosaurs.
I think I would have played in the light with the dinosaurs.

I love when I see my Little Foot, older than me, sitting on my bed—
Delight and safety come from the best one of the dinosaurs.

I wish I could have seen the tyrannosaurus in battle, fierce.
I think I would have cried at the fight of the dinosaurs.

I love when I see my books spread across my bed—
Despite so much studying, little is still known of the dinosaurs.

I wish I could have saved them from the meteor—
Chelsey, the hero, fixed the plight of the dinosaurs.

LTWR8B Poem 6

After editing my poems for a few days straight, which by the way is very emotionally straining and intense, I decided instead of having the page on my blog, I would put up a series of entries that shows the original poem and the final revised version I turned in.

To: Mom

Mother, Father please explain to me
How this world has come to be
While still blessed in all the things we see
Such a sad, sad home for you and me

Tell me when help is gonna come



She thinks, “Hey, how did it come to this?
I dream myself a thousand times around the world
But I can’t get out of this place.”

How she wishes it was different
She prays to God most every night
And though she swears he doesn’t listen
There’s still a hope in her He might



She says, “I pray, but they fall on deaf ears.
Am I supposed to take it on myself
To get out of this place?”



She feels like kicking out all the windows

It’s the lose and the win of the world

And setting fire to this life

Wrong and right, us and them of the world

She could change everything about her

The you and the me of the world

Using colors bold and bright

Only one way out of the world

But all the colors mix together—to grey

And it breaks her heart

The space between your heart and mine

By love, we’ll beat back the pain we’ve found

Take my hand ‘cause we’re walking out of here

Because tomorrow we may die

Take these chances



Want to pack your bags, something small

Take what you need and we disappear

Without a trace, we’ll be gone, gone

You’re coming with me



You know that you and me, we could do anything

If along the way, you are growing weary
You can rest with me until a brighter day
And you’re ok

From you my strength is full
To carry your burdens too



See you and me
Have a better time than most can dream
Have it better than the best

The moon and the stars follow the car
And then when we get to the ocean
We’re going to take a boat to the end of the world
All the way to the end of the world



Turns out not where but who you’re with
That really matters



I think the world of you
All of my heart I do
Blood through my veins for you

You and me together, we can do anything

Like a diamond in the sky

I give my world to you



So we can pull on through
Whatever tears at us
Whatever holds us down
And if nothing can be done
We’ll make the best of what’s around

Where you are is where I belong



So much you have given, love
That I would give you back again and again

All you need is
All you want is
All you need is love.
All you need is
What you want it
All you need is love.
Everyday

To: Mom

Citrus Heights
July 20th, 1990 to December 23rd, 1997
Such a sad, sad home for you and me

She thinks, “Hey, how did it come to this?
I dream myself a thousand times around the world
But I can’t get out of this place.”

She says, “I pray, but they fall on deaf ears.
Am I supposed to take it on myself
To get out of this place?”

Tell me when help is gonna come

She feels like kicking out all the windows

It’s the lose and the win of the world

And setting fire to this life

Wrong and right, us and them of the world

She could change everything about her

The you and the me of the world

Using colors bold and bright

Only one way out of the world

Take these chances

December 24th, 1997
12:01 am
Want to pack your bags, something small
Take what you need and we disappear

Because tomorrow we may die

Redding-The place I still call home
October 18th, 1998 to September 19th, 2008
By love, we’ll beat back the pain we’ve found

So we can pull on through
Whatever tears at us
Whatever holds us down

If along the way, you are growing weary
You can rest with me until a brighter day

La Jolla
September 20th, 2008
You and me together, we can do anything

Today and
What I've Learned
Turns out not where but who you’re with
That really matters

Tomorrow
And then when we get to the ocean
We’re going to take a boat to the end of the world
All the way to the end of the world

Where you are is where I belong

LTWR8B Poem 7

After editing my poems for a few days straight, which by the way is very emotionally straining and intense, I decided instead of having the page on my blog, I would put up a series of entries that shows the original poem and the final revised version I turned in. This is my poetic statement that is supposed to wrap up my entire view on poetry, though I'm not sure it represents any of my feelings on poetry. Or maybe partially. However, this is the one means the most to me. I bet you'll never guess why.

The Lottery: A Poem

A gamble
Of words.

A jumble
Of feelings.

A 1 in 176 million chance
Of getting it right.

The Lottery: A Poem

August 27^th, 2010
Bottle Liquor and Deli
999 Main St.

A gamble
Of words.

A jumble
Of feelings.

A 1 in 176 million chance
Of getting it right.

4 10 26 32 41 Mega Number 31

What makes your truly happy?

I'm not sure I quite know yet. There are a lot of things that make me happy, but I'm not sure if they're what makes me truly happy. If anything at all, it would be my family. They frustrate me sometimes to no end, but I love them to death and my happiness in life would... just... be... annihilated if I were to ever lose one. Sometimes, when I see a movie where a family member dies and I start to think about life after I lose one, I cry. There's nothing but a void there, soul destroying and painful to no end. I hate that feeling. My family is my everything. The reason I get up in the morning and live each day out to make sure that I can better their lives as they have bettered mine. I guess my answer should be God, but there's a lot I need to work on with Him to get to a point where He is what makes me truly happy above all else. And that's my fault, not His.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

when is it ok to lie?

I want to say never. I personally would rather people tell me the truth because I don't like hurting people and sometimes I do it without even realizing. Whenever there's drama in my life, it's usually because someone hasn't spoken up about something. I feel like I gotta quote Taylor Swift here when I say "SPEAK NOW."
TSwizzle-- "Real life is a funny thing, you know. In real life, saying the right thing at the right moment is beyond crucial. So crucial, in fact, that most of us start to hesitate, for fear of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But lately what I've begun to fear more than that is letting the moment pass without saying anything."
I think letting that fear of saying what you want to say just makes life harder. I'm not saying that I follow my own advice, but I start thinking about it when there's something I really want to say but don't know if I should say it. Recently, I went out on a limb and asked someone to my house for dinner. That sounds really lame, but I'm pretty antisocial around new people and that was big for me. Especially because I kind of have a crush on him. So, I was pretty proud of myself for the rest of the day even though he said he had other plans. I felt like a BAMF and at least I knew that I didn't let the chance go by me.
Speaking of going out on a limb, I'm going to quote the wise and philosophical Joshua Ottoson when I say "Why not go out on a limb? That's where the fruit is."
So, get your fruit. Say what's on your mind. Don't lie and cover it up. Be honest. I'll work on it if you do.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

An Interview, Pt. 1

"You have a very interesting mind," she said as she sat down at the table across from me. "I'd rather like to take a look inside."

She meant my cerebellum and corpus callosum and amygdala, but I didn't correct her.

"Every word going through your mind is pertinent. Did you know that? I don't know why you don't write your thoughts down more often."

Because I'd rather not let anyone see inside, that's why. Because I'd rather censor what people see so that each person has a specific version that I've cultivated specifically for them. Everyone has a piece of me. No one has a whole. I don't know who I'm saving it for, but I certainly don't want it and I only show God my thankful side.

All this happens inside me, but I only give her a piece--

"I just don't think they're that important."

UPDATE:

I changed this into a poem for poetry class. In case you haven't checked out the Practice Makes Perfect page where I'm featuring my poetry, it's there.

The Boston Chronicles: Tuesday, 8-24-10 (Day 2)

Today was awesome. It's raining here like crazy so we didn't do a whole bunch. First we woke up extremely late and had DELICIOUS chocolate chip pancakes, that I've been dying and craving for since like April when I bought my ticket to come here.

Then we talked for hours. Katie caught me up on all of the Shall-Not-Be-Named, ridiculous drama that someone is putting her through. Katie is so awesome, that before we left for the day, I told Betsy I wanted to give her a makeshift

surprise birthday party later. The three of us took the T, yeah the T because I'm in Boston an

d can do amazing stuff like take

the T, to Newton Centre and got challah at the Blue Sky Bakery, which reminds me of the Blue Sky Cellar in Disneyland California Adventures, but there's cooler things like models of the new World of Color in there.

Afterwards, Betsy and I got some things together for Katie's makeshift surprise birthday bonanza--two kinds of ice cream because I don't like peanut butter as a dessert, M&M's toppings, "streamers" which were really wrapping paper ribbons because CVS blows a bit in that department, cards that were AWESOME, and a magazine as a birthday present. When we got back to the BK Lounge, we decorated the place with our "streamers" and I made dinosaurs/work horses to put up on the kitchen wall. We also made her a crown because she is QUEEN OF THE DINOSAURS!

Then we talked some more and convinced her to go New York City with us! Betsy and I leave tomorrow! Yay!

The Boston Chronicles: Monday, 8-23-10 (Day 1)

Bad things come in threes and hopefully I've had my three bad things for this trip.

1. I have a MONSTER PERIOD.

2. New York Pass = NO SHOW.

3. I have a 2 hour delay in Dallas.

Good things

1. My check-in luggage made it to Boston.

2. Free water from Subway

3. Being in BOSTON!

4. God getting me through this crazy day.

5. Meeting the lovely Katie Russell.

6. My first taxi ride through the bright lights of Boston at two in the morning

and finally

7. SEEING BETSARIO, MY OLDER SISTER FIGURE!

Sending out prayers for an awesome trip!

do you agree with me when I say if there's a just God, He/She/It would rather us spend our days of worship volunteering or doing charity rather than church?

Yes. I do agree. I believe he wants us to do that too. Sometimes, I think people view worship as a singular act of singing along to some songs in church, but worship comes in all sorts of ways. I love the topic of spiritual gifts (1 Corinthians 12, Ephesians 4) because these show just how many different ways you can worship the Lord, just by serving in Spirit. If volunteering is your thing, maybe the Spirit has blessed you with a gift for compassion, or servitude, or both, or something else. Personally, forms of worship for me come in my own spiritual gifts of shepherding and encouragement, which for me translates to giving people advice and counseling. I also believe that when I'm married, being a good wife will be a form of worship. There are so many amazing spiritual gifts and different ways to worship and I love to talk about them, preferably in person, so if you ever want to talk to me about it, feel free.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

Shingles Me Timbers

Ladies and gentleman, specifically to gross you out, I have Shingles.

It's a real classy disease, let me tell you.

First, you notice a pain wherever Shingles is preparing to erupt and ruin your life. It can feel like a soreness. Some people believe they've pulled a muscle. This, my friends, is not the case. Your nerve is being attacked by the little Shingles gnomes (of course they're gnomes) and undergoing severe gnome devastation like that can make anything feel sore.

Then, the little Shingles gnomes start popping up in the spot where they conquered your nerve. There's like one or two, in my case three, and you feel them one day as you're rubbing your sore ass shoulder. If you're anything like me you think "Whoa... are these cancer bumps?" because you are always, and I mean ALWAYS, scared you will get cancer on your back. And for some reason it always, and I mean ALWAYS, starts with tiny bumps. You run to your mom "MOM I HAVE CANCER BUMPS!!!" and she rolls her eyes at you and looks at them. "No, you have pimples... now SHUT THE HELL UP!" *Author's note: My mom probably wouldn't say that to me, well, maybe she would, but not so dramatically. The dramatic use of cursing and CAPS LOCK is specifically for humor purposes only. Now, let's continue*

BUT YOU'RE BOTH WRONG BECAUSE IT'S THE SHINGLES GNOMES. AND THEY ARE LAUGHING MANICALLY AT YOUR CANCER HYPOTHESIS BECAUSE YOU ARE SO FUCKING WRONG!

The little Shingles gnomes start reproducing and gyrating to some awful techno music that Chad Michael Murray probably enjoys. This creates more bumps and makes them all itchy. All you want to do is itch those stupid bumps because you KNOW that if you just itched it once it would all go away, so you do. But the itch does not go away because the little Shingles gnomes are all on ecstasy and that makes their itchy dance rave go for 24 hours a day.

So, in my situation because I am poor, I do not go to a doctor's office. I probably could count the number of times I've been to the doctor with my limbs. I fight the little Shingles gnomes dance rave with itch cream. Take that, little suckers. Screw your dancing. I will win. I won't itch!

This itch-cream-repeat routine happens for a while. You get another patch on your arm that isn't as crazy looking as the back, but makes you seriously consider the fact that you have a flesh eating virus and that you are dying. You think about life and what it's meant to you and you pray a lot that you don't have the flesh eating virus. You finish the letters that you'd half written in your "In The Event of My Death" folder you have on your laptop. You figure out who gets what of your possessions (I'm taking Little Foot to my fiery kiln of a burial, mofos. Don't even think about it.).

Your aunt tells you you have a fungus. What the hell? There's mushrooms or moss or whatever fungus is growing on your back!?! You don't know what "fungus" means exactly, but it doesn't sound pretty. And, in fact, it does not look pretty either. As you desperately search Google images for "skin eating fungus" (Don't do it.), you realize that your life will probably end and you will look disgusting. You will look like your skin is entirely gone and your muscles are just out there, exposed to the world, naked of their protective epidermis layers.

And then you get a new patch on your wrist. You either have some insanely awkward cancer, or in fact you do have the flesh eating virus. Those are the only options.

You go to the doctor. She exclaims "YOU HAVE HERPES."

You reply, "Listen, lady. I'm sure you are very adequate at your job. I'm sure you excel at it. But the thing is, there's no way I can have herpes because... well... I... don't... do it. Yes, I don't have sex? Don't look at me like that. I'm not lying. Yeah, so I can't have herpes."

But you think there's a possibility because that one time you were in the Sonic bathroom with your mom and she realized you don't really like toilet seat covers and she told you if you kept doing that you'd probably gets AIDS and STD's. You remember how that one time she asked you what would happen when your survivor phone finally broke and you told her stfu because your survivor phone would never break and then IT DID FOR NO REASON! You realize she's right about things all the time and maybe she's right about you having herpes because you don't use toilet seat covers. You think about how no one will want to marry you because you will probably get those creepy wart things down below and who wants someone with an STD and they've never even have the S?!?

All this passes through your mind quicker than it took to read that paragraph and then you realize the doctor is looking at you like you're an idiot.

"You have Shingles, which is a reoccurrence of chicken pox. When you have gone through chicken pox, the virus lays dormant in your nerves and sometimes it can resurface as Shingles, which is treated the same way as Herpes."

And then you figure out the little bumps are actually the dancing, gyrating, techno-loving little Shingles gnomes. You get a prescription and you take the first pill, thinking SCREW YOU, LITTLE SHINGLES GNOMES! I AM CALLING THE ACYCLOVIR POPO ON YOUR DUMB BACK/ARM/WRIST BLOCK PARTY!

And then you win. The tides turn and once you've got the acyclovir popo on your side, there's nothing the little Shingles gnomes can do. You're destroying them five times a day with food and plenty of water.

Thank you to all who were with me technologically when I went to the doctor's and for all the encouragement and prayers you sent my way. This post is dedicated to you.

Which is worse: a striped cat or a plain cat?

Both make me want to projectile vomit.


Maybe a striped cat.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

Which is worse: moldy food or spotty bananas?

Moldy food is worse because you can't really do much with it. Spotty bananas are disgusting but you can put them in my famous Poor-Man's-Smoothie so they do have their uses. Moldy food does not.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

Why are the Yankees your favorite?

The Yankees are my favorite probably because Katie likes them. I get caught up in other people's excitement really easily. But I also am REALLY good at calling A-Rod's home runs, which is what started my whole obsession to begin with. And I really love Johnny Damon (who switched to the Tigers) and Mark Texiera.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

A Video Blog... In Five Parts

Eat Pray Love Page 208

A recent theological idea has really sparked some intense pondering in me. I know I should put absolutely zero stock in whatever that train wreck Elizabeth Gilbert has to say about religion and God, but she brought forth an idea that I cannot get over, despite discussing it with Stephanie and then her parents as well.

She talks about cherry-picking from religions and how she disagrees with the sentiment of that being wrong--"I think you have every right to cherry-pick when it comes to moving your spirit and finding peace in God... It's the history of mankind's search for holiness. If humanity never evolved in its exploration of the divine, a lot of us would still be worshiping golden Egyptian statues of cats. And this evolution of of religious thinking does involve a fair bit of cherry-picking." I have to say I believe cherry-picking is ok in certain aspects. I believe people, even in Christianity, find God in different ways--nature, music, photography, books, words, meditation, exercise, bungee jumping, fishing, whatever-- and you can search for those ways in other religions. Sometimes, things just work for you better than others and I think God put those in your path to help you reach Him. Why wouldn't He?

I'm sure how I feel about cherry-picking though in other aspects. I definitely don't believe it's ok to cherry-pick what you want for the Bible, especially when arguing about theology. I don't believe it's right at all and I think when people do that it only hurts God and hurts the image of God in others. Not that I'm saying I don't do this, but I don't know if I know the Bible enough to even cherry-pick from it. When I discuss God, I go by feeling, by instinct, and this implicit and childlike faith I have in His existence. I'm unsure about whether or not I'm ok about cherry-picking who God is or who Jesus is only because I'm afraid the somewhere in this post I might do just that. In other words, I don't think it's right but I don't want to condemn myself before I even write it. Guess I already have.

So, here I am going to quote a few things because I had to take a break from writing this and I lost my train of thought. I shall ramble until I find it again.

"The Hopi Indians thought that the world's religions each contained one spiritual thread and that these threads are always seeking each other, wanting to join."

This idea intrigues me greatly. I would love it if all our religions were more interconnected than we actually thought. I think what really gets me about this idea is the fact that it seems to peaceful and harmonious, which I believe is something we need between religions. I don't think there should be conflict between religions. In essence, we're all trying to achieve the same thing. As each religion out there says, their own religion is the only way to attain salvation and that's fine. I believe my way and you can believe yours and we'll encourage each other to the end. I don't think we should be constantly attempting to convert people to one way or another or fighting over who is right. In reality, we'll honestly never truly know until we die.

That's hard for me to say as Christian because I am supposed to say that my way is right. Maybe deep down, I'm unsure over whether or not Jesus purchased my salvation with His blood, but I know I also don't want to give up the possibility that people who believe different things will go to hell. There are some truly good people I know who aren't Christians, but their undeniable goodness is so overwhelming to me, it's unfathomable they would be sent to hell. In all honesty, I have a hard time with concept of heaven and hell at all. I have not read much about what heaven and hell is like in what I have read of the Bible so I don't really have anything to go off of at all except the decision I made long ago, which is that no matter what happens after I die, heaven, hell, nothing, reincarnation, some crazy wake-up Pushing Daisies status, it doesn't matter to me. I do believe God is real and that I am here on Earth for His purposes and that I'll do whatever I can to please Him and live a good life on His earth.

But going back to different religions and what they say about God and salvation, I shall quote the line that has most intrigued me out of this whole page-- "this glimmering idea that God might be bigger than our limited religious doctrines."

NOTE OF WARNING: The following is purely just thought and ideas and talking things through. These are not my official beliefs.

This one line sparked a whole new idea of God for me, one that I'm not putting a ton of faith because again this freaking ridiculous EPL and Elizabeth Gilbert is kind of a religious wack-job, but anyway. I thought of this after thinking about this line for some time-- You know how God communicates to us differently and we all have our different spiritual gifts and things we're destined for, well, what if religions worked in the same way? Like maybe different religions were created by Him to speak to different kinds of people? Some people are made to believe in Christianity, to take that blind leap of faith that Jesus died for our sins and that God is this awesome Holy Dad. Some people were made for rules and rituals and yamakahs and really long holidays. Some people were made to pray east five times a day. And so on and so forth. I mean, just within Christianity alone are a ton of different denominations, ways to seek God, etc. And adding to that idea, before Jesus came along, the Christian God was in fact a Jewish God. So why couldn't the God we proclaim to be infinite actually be infinite?

If you think about it, we've been told many times as Christians not to put God in a box, yet isn't that exactly what Christianity is--a box. We are saying that there is only ONE way to reach God, which is a very small box indeed. What if God was more infinite than one? That thought right there goes entirely against everything Christianity holds dear to itself, but it's a legitimate question I think. In reality, the Bible was written by humans. We could've gotten it wrong. We could've come up with it ourselves. I know those ideas are answered through faith, but it's true. We are human and maybe we limited God. Or maybe God wanted to be limited to speak to a certain group of people. I don't know. I don't really believe in any of this.

However, I do like the idea of infinite God, a truly infinite God. As Stephanie's parents put it, He is infinite yet He placed rules upon Himself when Jesus died upon the cross (paraphrased, not verbatim, and possibly not entirely accurate--I had a lot of questions spilling around in my head when they were talking to me). I can understand that. God put Himself in a box because Jesus was the truth. That is a novel idea to me in this whole in-my-head discussion I've been having about this and it makes sense--God placed Himself in a box when Jesus died for all of our sins.

Hmmmm.... new ideas to think about now.

Anyway, if you've gotten this far without being offended, awesome. I hope I didn't offend anyone or made you think I was an awful, unbelieving "Christian." It wasn't my intention. I love God with all I have and I'm working on bettering it more and more. I think this discussion is a part of that.

In the words of Stephanie, "Don't call me a bad Christian. I'll kill you!"

A Decade Under The Influence

I turned 20 today.

20.

That's a whole new era for me.

20.

It's something entirely different.

I'm not a teenager anymore. I can't necessarily be called a kid anymore. There's no more teen rebellion. No more... I don't know. I mean, quite honestly, there's no way I'm ever going to stop being a kid. If I can be one thing in my life, I hope I'm always a kid. I think deep at heart I'm like a 5 year old little boy. I say boy because tonight in the midst of a very important and philosophical conversation with Chad, Michael, Stephanie, and Amelia (Sorry, Jenna, you left too early) I definitely started talking about poop.

But a whole second decade of my life is gone. I've lived two decades and I'm not sure what I have to show for it. I don't know if I should be writing this after such a long day now at 4:30 in the morning, but sometimes I wonder what I've contributed to the world.

It's difficult to really believe that though considering it took me 45 minutes to go through all of the Facebook birthday messages, videos, blogs, and I've spent pretty much the last 48+ hours in birthday mode with friends and family, which by the way, I love. Definitely using my birthday to my advantage more often next time. But there were these tiny and large message from people I've touched. Sure they saw my birthday on their Home Page or (for my much closer friends) knew about it anyway, but they still took time out to say something to me. How amazing is that. I'm loved. And I know it.

And despite being told countless times today how well I show my love to others, I feel I don't show it enough. Isn't that weird? Sometimes I feel like I need a complete 180 on how I treat people. I need more lessons on love. And I want to take those lessons. So I'm going to take them from the person who knows best about them--God.

I feel like the past two decades of my life have been influenced by things that they shouldn't have been--boys, money, idleness, procrastination-- to name a few. I want this decade to be marked by Him and the love in the relationships I have and will develop. It's a large commitment, but I've supposedly given my life to Him, so why shouldn't I give Him a decade? I want this to be so filled with Him I can't separate this time in my life from Him.

I've already started doing this. Stephanie and I bought the full works of C.S. Lewis and we're reading them together, going over them together, and beginning to talk about our faith together--something we've never done really. We both want this and I think it was a great first step towards a whole new area to our friendship, one I'm really excited about.

So, that is what I wanted to say. I'm living in a decade under the influence of Him. This post was probably no coherent, but I needed to write it before I went to bed. It needed to be written "today." I shall write another with details on the birthday soon.

But thank you to everyone. You each fill my heart so much, it could burst any moment. Thank you to all the people who are exceptionally poignant in my life, to those on the outskirts, and those who've left it for good. You've all made words, phrases, paragraphs, and chapters in my life.

No Direction

I have a new blog because I am... NO LONGER A SOPHOMORE. So I definitely could not have a blog (im batmaaaaaan -Katie) that implies that I am one. I'm not a sophomoric little second-year. I'm a third year, with an infantile enthusiasm and the mindset of a four year old.

As of right now, I have no time to reflect upon the events of my second year here at UCSD as I'm about to hit the town with my A-TEAM of ladies. Hannibal, Face, Murdock, and BA are going to go the rock the world.

I love them all and am happy to be spending my last night with them. That sentence could sum up my year quite easily.

WHAT DOES SPACE LOOK LIKE?!?! (I know the answer to this.)

SPACE LOOKS LIKE A RACCOON.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

Hey Chelsey... What's God to you?

I've been avoiding this question for quite some time simply because this question is hard for me to answer.
Above all else, I believe God is love. He is the very being, essence, and creator of love. He is the one person I'm using my whole life to learn how to please. He is the one person I will spend my whole life attempting to be more like- loving beyond all conditions and all boundaries. I believe in God more than I believe in a heaven, a hell, angels, demons, and so forth. I don't really care what happens after this life but I know that I will do my best to make Him happy because I know He is there. I don't doubt His existence because I know I wouldn't be here without Him. He's saved my life more times than I can believe and it solidifies my faith in His existence. He has a purpose for me and each breath I take and I'm happy to take them for Him.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

What are some of your short and long term goals in life?

Short term- write more, blog more, read more, exercise more, enjoy this summer, make the most of the last two years of this wonderful stage of my life.
Long term- I'm leaving them open. I'm unsure how my future is going to go and I'm ok with that. I like having so many possibilities. It's the first time I've never had a set plan in mind. I have many ideas about what I want to do, but nothing solid, nothing defined. it'll stay that way for awhile hopefully. I'll just work to achieve above goals and enjoy life as it comes at me and as God sees fit.
Now, this sounds like I'm really cool and laid-back, but if you know me, and I'm assuming you do because you found this somehow, you would know I'm not. I'm usually super wired and freaking out and plan, plan, plan, plan, plan. This is only a recent development and could be because I'm too lazy to formulate a plan. Or it could be because I've actually let go of the reins of life. We'll see.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I don't know yet. That's hard for me to answer. I've wanted to help teens my whole life, but I don't know if that's what I'm made to do or maybe not made to do it the way I'm going about it-becoming a counselor. I'm not sure if that's because I'm not in the right academic program right now or if it's because that's simply what I'm not supposed to do.
I'm dabbling in writing, considering it as a future career. It's hard and it's scary and I have no idea why anyone would want to read anything that I write. But I want to. I have a feeling the life of a writer would suit me more than any.
Also on the table is possibly working for Disney. This is contingent upon acceptance into the internship program, liking my experience there, and seeing if Disney will take me or possibly doing the next step in the Disney internship process.
Always a possibility and always will be, becoming a Disney Princess at Disneyland. Hello, Disney executives. I may not look like it, but I'll be the best Belle ever. I promise. I have the signature down and everything.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

Why was junior high a terrible time for you? I thought we were friends.

Junior High got bad in eighth grade. I'm unsure why but that's when I began my destructive path of self-injury. Not so bueno. We were probably friends but as you asked anonymously I can't honestly tell you if we were. I was very general in the below questions, so sorry if you felt left out. Each group I've been in has one defining friend for me and I call the entire group by that one person. So, you were probably included, just not by name?

Ask me anything. I dare you.

Untitled

How do you capture a moment like a horse?

You find there in your quilt as it enshrouds you while you lie still hoping that the day's responsibilities won't find you. You see the ears, small and dark, running into the head, facing so that a single, white, wide eyeball stares at you, condemning, understanding, uncertain. The head blends to neck blends to body and that movement maybe too wide for a real horse, but this is just a horse in a quilt. The long, spindly legs are there, but the tail is lost under a bump.

You're just lying there, staring at it, wanting to capture its image with some sort of device, but knowing that a movement would ruin it forever.

So you capture it in your mind, writes its description with your head, let its single, white, wide eyeball stare piercingly back at you until you can no longer forget it, so that when you close your eyes you see it still, floating brightly against the darkness inside.

And then it's gone.

You can't capture a moment like a horse.

I Shouldn't Be Reading Asian Literature, But I Should Definitely Be Studying For My Chemistry Final

I think I just want something that's not that last blog post to be there. That was weird and I was weird. Hence the title, "Weird."

I looked over my grades for my grammar class and as of right now it says that I got a 600 out of 600 on my final. I heavily suspect that that is false because I'm not that good at grammar and I only earned an 87.5% on my midterm. We shall see where my grades lies in few hours like my instructor said.

I just watched an episode of Invader Zim. That was good! I forgot how good it was. I was watching Rocko's Modern Life and it just wasn't as good as I remember it being. Which is sad because Rocko's is one of those cartoon I hold in high regard. Maybe I'll have to rethink that. Or watch more episodes until I like it again. I wasn't really paying attention this first time around.

I packed all of my clothes up yesterday except for what I'll need for this week and whatever for the ride home. My closet looks exceedingly empty which is weird for me because I definitely am the one with the most clothes in this apartment, although I definitely want to change that. I am looking to shift the direction of my wardrobe into the more adult world, and less jeans and t-shirt all the time. Even jeans and not just a t-shirt or sweatshirt would be a step towards sophistication for me. So, I'm trying. I bought this really cute tank at Urban Outfitters which I've been wearing like crazy since I got it last weekend. If you'll be in Redding this summer, you'll probably see me in it a thousand times.

I need to change the title of my blog. It was specifically chosen for the fact that I am a sophomore and that this year could have been a slump or it could've been a comeback. I shall write my opinion on it on the very last day that I'm considered a sophomore. Technically, I've been a junior since Winter Quarter, but I really just mean that it's my second year here. Yet, it's coming to a close and I'm not sure what I want to name my blog. See, every title I think of seems to give a direction to my blog. I'm not sure I want my blog to have a direction. If you can tell by my posts, my blog is a multitude of things; it's funny posts, me being weird, crap, family, friends, simple updates on my life, me being depressed, me sharing my writing. I guess a direction would be me, but that sounds selfish and selfish is not a blog direction I would like. But then again, isn't blogging selfish in a way? I guess unless you blog to save hungry children or the whales or to clean up the oil spill, blogging is unselfish. However, blogging at it's most basic, reduced to the point of absurdity level screams "THIS IS ME AND LOOK AT WHAT I'M DOING."

This point makes me not want to blog at all. Luckily, I am quite selfish and conceited and in all reality I mostly write this blog for myself. I couldn't count the numerous times I've come on here and laughed at what I've written. I think that might be bad.

Anyway, maybe I'll call my blog "Brushing Your Teeth In The Shower" and you'll have to deal with it.

P.S. Definitely need to blog about the awesome super early surprise birthday party given to me by the wonderful ladies in my apartment. It will happen soon.

P.P.S. Also happening soon, an update to my fiction page. I think I will post part of my Non-Fiction final up there for y'all to read. Sorry I haven't changed it recently. Haven't written anything I'm proud of yet. However, my final might change that.

Weird

I don't know what to call this.... restlessness?

I have a distinct feeling to be doing many and multiple things right now--smoking a cigarette, running, cutting myself, putting pen to paper in a prolific attempt to make sense of just one more part of myself--but none of those ideas seem to fulfill whatever it is I'm searching for at this hour.

Outside seemed the place to be as I sweatily rolled around the quilts and the comforters and the pillows on my bed, but outside isn't as cold as I would like to be and I still feel unfulfilled.

So what is it I'm looking for?

The fact that I'm blogging this shames me as these feelings and words are too... sacred... for the cyberspace cacophony. The scratching of ballpoint to wood pulp would please me so much more but why waste these feelings on trash?

I am being mercilessly forced to read my work in front of my class tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to it.

Fuck, I don't want to talk about class I don't want to talk about anything I want to do I want to be I want to

Infatuations, unexpected,

Unnerving; restlessness that ceases to let go of me and the repetitive line of wishes, wishes, wishes right now have an alarming grasp on innerworkings mental activities does it really matter.

Airplanes

This song will be getting me through the end of the quarter. I could really use a wish right, wish right now, wish right now.

Don't You Hate It When...

you have to pee really, really, REALLY bad but you also want to wash your face and then you choose to wash your wash and the whole time you're doing it you're like "wow, this water sounds just like pee falling into a toilet" and you wish that it was your pee falling into the toilet but it's not because you chose to wash your face instead so then you're sitting there trying to wash your face while also doing a pee dance and attempting to not get the apricot scrub microbeads in your eyes because THAT FUCKING HURTS and and then you make the water warmer to distract you from the pain in your bladder because you love warm water on your body almost more than you love air in your lungs but then that DEFINITELY reminds you of pee because isn't pee warm? and you think you know that either from experience or from class and then finally you finish washing your face and you finally get all those DAMN microbeads off your face and you get your belt undone and your pants down and then finally, FINALLY you get to pee?

Yeah, that just happened to me.

What has been the best period of your life so far?

When I read this, I immediately assumed you were talking about my menstrual period for some reason and I was like "My second period ever in seventh grade that only lasted half a day and didn't come back for another six months."

Anyway, period of life as in "stage," "phase," "era," "age," "epoch." I'm not exactly sure. I think I would say right now. Early childhood was messed up by divorce, switching houses, switching schools, switching cities. Junior High and beginning of high school was marked by severe depression. Rest of high school was downed by an absence of me from God and some really... shitty events/people. Freshman year of college was hurt by heartbreak.

And now... now I'm... free of all that. For the most part. There's dealing with that past and not letting it hurt who I am now, but accepting it as part of who I am now. Now there's happiness and true friends and an empty road ahead of me. Now there's pages to be written and adventures to be had and music to hear and concerts to see. There's nothing but me holding me back and I'm not going to let myself do that.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

what career path are you on? if you're a ninja or a spy, you don't have to tell.

My first non-perfectly written question! Yay! I know you are real and not a robot feeding me questions. I am unsure how many questions below are real because I think formspring just felt bad for my non-getting-questions and gave me a whole bunch. I was unsure because there were none that were not perfectly written. But YOURS ISN'T CAPITALIZED, so I know you're real. And that means, you are loved.

And it's a good thing you said that, anonymous, because if I was (I DEFINITELY AM) a spy and/or (AND) ninja, I wouldn't tell you. Because... I would have to kill you. If you look like 2 or 3 questions below, you will see that I have various ways to kill people while also simultaneously protecting Katie. I always protect Katie.

But my career front is unsure as of right now. I used to want to become a counselor, especially one for teens, because I think I understand that age group well and I understand a lot of things that teens go through REALLY well. But then I found out how much schooling that is and I also realized that I might not be well suited for that, so I'm unsure. I'm really sick of school now and that might change by the time I graduate but if it doesn't I might even go back once I do some things that are very unschoolish. Other than that, I'm also considering being a writer, working in the publishing world, working for Disney/applying for an internship there, working for TWLOHA/applying for an internship there, working on a ranch, being a truck driver, not caring about an actual career and being a secretary or something so I can meet my Jim and do other things that aren't career oriented, like live in a camper and travel around the mainland United States. I don't know. The future holds a lot for me right now and there are so many things I'm figuring out that I want to do besides jumping into grad school or starting my career. I'm very excited for the unknown for once in my life.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

What is the weirdest food you would eat?

Anything made by Jezli.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

What is your weapon of choice?

It depends upon the situation. Different situations call for different weapons. If there is a rapist, you need numchuks, preferably the rapist's numchuks because what's more embarrassing than getting beaten down by your own numchuks. If there is a smoke monster, I would morph into a plane and tell him "C'mon, Smoke Monster, let's get you off this island!. We're goin' places." And then he would get on (with his bitty arm) and I would take him away and he would say "RAWRRAWRRAWRRARA" much like Lady Gaga, and he would be so excited to leave the island, then I would drown that bitch in the bottom of the ocean. I would leave the plane down there, which would be the equivalent of cutting off my middle toe and then I would save the island. If it was a unicorn rapist, I wouldn't do a thing, because when he inserts his horn into your babymaker, he's really just leaving a bunch of love crumbs in there, so that when you walk around, the love crumbs come falling out and you spread the pure and innocent love of a unicorn around wherever you go.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

The chicken. God created the aminals (spelled the way I want it to be spelled) and was like "THOU SHALT NAME HIM...?" and Adam and Eve were all like "chicken???" and then God was like "IT SHALL BE SO." And it was all good in the ancient hood.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

What is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for you?

There are two things I can think of--
1. Stephanie sending me letters. That's super nice of her. My mom sends me letters but that's because she has to because she's my mom. Stephanie doesn't though. And it's always pretty damn awesome when you get a letter from your best friend in the mail that usually contains some sort of mix cd or funny inside joke or just the fact that it is always addressed to me by my real name.
2. Katie, Jo, and Jezli living with this year (and now Katie again for signing up for living another year with this crazy biatch). Seriously, no one has to live with me. No one has to SHARE A ROOM WITH ME (Jezli) but they do. And for some reason, they still love me. Even after all the crazy wacked out crap that comes out of my mouth about 95% of the time I am awake. Who knows, maybe even asleep too? They're wonderful ladies and I'm blessed beyond measure for their presence in my life. Putting up with me enough to live with me is seriously one of the nicest, if not the nicest. Although this honor will only be able to be taken over by my future husband who will probably be insane because he chose to commit the rest of his life to me. I feel bad for that guy.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

You stumble upon a magic lamp with a resident genie that grants you three wishes, what would they be?

I would wish for financial security. I've lived almost my whole in fear of being homeless or not having enough food on the table. Even though God has seen my family through every last terrifying moment, I wish that we wouldn't have to worry. Sure more money would mean different worries, but at least my family wouldn't have to be scared.
I would wish for lifelong passes to Disneyland/Club 33. That would just be cool.
I would also wish for more self-discipline. That's weird, but it's something I severely lack.

Ask me anything. I dare you.

People I Love

I don't know when I'll be posting this because the title really covers so many things and I really want to give each person a spotlight because, in my mind, they all have one. And all their spotlights together create this huge ball of light and love that constantly keeps me going throughout my days.

Mom

Dexter

Stephanie

Katie

Joanne

Jezli

Amelia

Ashtyn

Betsy

Rachel

The Parties

Nathalie

Andrew

Ashley

Vicky

Kelsey

Kristen

Shirley

Lauren

And I feel weird making a list of the people I love because there are so other many people out there whose compassion and affection I feel even when they're not around or even if we've been distant for quite some time. If you're not on this list, it doesn't mean I don't love you, not at all. I'm human and have a disgusting propensity to forget those who aren't completely salient in my life. But I wanted to at least acknowledge those who are there, more than anyone else in the word, the people who I feel totally safe with, the people I don't censor myself in front of. I needed to. I don't know if it's this week taking it's toll on me but I just needed to remind myself of these people-these beautiful and awesome people.

Thank you for being there.

Helter Skelter 2.0

Updating my list of things to do. I can't go on Facebook because I made Katie change my password and I can't even just do random things online in the place of Facebook because I know I'll find something I'll want to link to them. Oh well, you get a lot of I'M-GOING-TO-GO-CRAZY posts. They won't be as bad as they were during Finals Week last quarter though. I was literally a different person my insanity was so ridiculous.

TUESDAY:Reading for PSYC158 (since I doubt I'll finish it today)Study for PSYC 105ROOM SELECTION FOR IHOUSE (may or may not blow my brains out here, send a prayer that I live with Katie)LTWR ClassPSYC105 Midterm (but no lecture afterwards, thank goodness. I can go home and watch LOST)Research Love Languages and see if it's a viable topic for PSYC158 Paper
WEDNESDAY:CHEM13 ClassPSYC158 Reading (because I probably will not finish it)PSYC158 ClassPSYC158 OH (hopefully she'll talk to me about my paper after class or I'm going to have to go in there on Thursday)Write criticism essay on Dave Matthews Band's Big Whiskey And The Groo Grux KingFinish editing all the other drafts for worksop
THURSDAY:Stand in line all day for SunGod wristbandHopefully have time somewhere to finish criticism and editing (hopefully I just finish them Wednesday)LTWR Class/Workshop, Turn in criticism
FREEDOM! FREEDOM! FREEDOM! (kinda)
FRIDAY:CHEM13 Discussion (unlikely I'll go unless there's a quiz, but even then might not get since I got EXCELLENT on my first midterm)CHEM13 Class (may or may not go, depending on SunGod wristband situation above)LTWR8C Discussion (supposed to go, but again depends on SunGod wristband situation and SunGod itself, also depends on whether or not I finish my homework for the class)
AND I TOTALLY FORGOT FRIDAY IS KATIE'S BIRTHDAY.

Helter Skelter: A Metaphor For Hecticism

This week is going to be very hectic for me.
MONDAY:Chemistry Midterm (which is over but it was all consuming for me yesterday)Meat Mondays (cooking steak and fixings for everyone, maybe I can use one of those salads int he fridge)Study for Cog Psyc midterm tomorrowRead for Psyc 158 and get questions prepared
TUESDAY:Work at the Thrift Store (10-1, maybe I can bring study materials in)Reading for LTWR8C (ooh, just remembered--there might not be any this week!)Reading for PSYC158 (since I doubt I'll finish it today)Study for PSYC 105ROOM SELECTION FOR IHOUSE (may or may not blow my brains out here, send a prayer that I live with Katie)LTWR ClassPSYC105 Midterm (but no lecture afterwards, thank goodness. I can go home and watch LOST)Research Love Languages and see if it's a viable topic for PSYC158 Paper
WEDNESDAY:CHEM13 ClassPSYC158 Reading (because I probably will not finish it)PSYC158 ClassPSYC158 OH (hopefully she'll talk to me about my paper after class or I'm going to have to go in there on Thursday)Write criticism essay on Dave Matthews Band's Big Whiskey And The Groo Grux KingFinish editing all the other drafts for worksop
THURSDAY:Stand in line all day for SunGod wristbandHopefully have time somewhere to finish criticism and editing (hopefully I just finish them Wednesday)LTWR Class/Workshop, Turn in criticism
FREEDOM! FREEDOM! FREEDOM! (kinda)
FRIDAY:CHEM13 Discussion (unlikely I'll go unless there's a quiz, but even then might not get since I got EXCELLENT on my first midterm)CHEM13 Class (may or may not go, depending on SunGod wristband situation above)LTWR8C Discussion (supposed to go, but again depends on SunGod wristband situation and SunGod itself, also depends on whether or not I finish my homework for the class)