The Caramel Brulee Latte is the Best Drink at Starbucks.

And I'm not going to write any more about it.

I have 33 minutes before I have to be somewhere and I just reached a stopping point in my intercultural experience paper. Obviously, I can't just pick up and start working on it again with only 33 minutes left. What to do with the awkward leftover time? AHA!

This week has been strange and out-of-sync. Monday felt like Friday. Tuesday felt like Monday. Wednesday felt like Friday. Thursday felt like Tuesday. And Friday felt like...um...Friday. Anyway.

It's time to get in the Christmas spirit and I'm working on it slowly but surely. No, not surely. Just kind of. And slowly. Snow would help.

I FINISHED DEWEY ON MONDAY. <--Biggest accomplishment of the week.

That means that on Tuesday, I spent the entire evening reading The Last Song, or as I call it, One of the Cheesiest Books I've Ever Read But Couldn't Stop Reading. Nicholas Sparks words his sentences in a way that annoys me and includes phrases such as "wouldn't trade this for the world" and "loved more than life itself". Ho boy. This is why I would rather write children's books. Then I can include phrases such as "SUPER AWESOME" and "the moose soared twenty feet in the air" and "then Fuzzymunch bought a cool pirate hook and said 'Argh! I be Cap'n Munch!" <--sounds like Cap'n Crunch.

Speaking of pirate hook, last night I went to a party for the Andreas building leaders. Guess what I got in the white elephant gift exchange. And guess who didn't win the sweater contest. (It's ok. Really. Ila deserved it. Really.)

After the party, I went to The Blink and spent 2/3 of my Blink money. 5 bottled drinks, 10 packs of poptarts, 2 twix bars, 2 bags of trail mix, 3 special k bars, and 3 bags of sun chips. I'm almost all stocked up for finals.

Now I have a 15-page paper due on Tuesday that I just started on today. That's because, when I'm a big girl teacher one day, I'm going to have to know how to be prepared for everything in advance.

My roommate's gone this weekend, but I'm handling it better than usual. Why is this? Because I have a 15-page paper to write, her bed makes a convenient shelf, and I can play really loud Christmas music in the morning. (Hard at work on my Christmas spirit!)

In fact, I think I've found my defining song of the season: Santa Baby. I'd like the deed to a platinum mine, a yacht, maybe a ring (and I don't mean on the phone)....

Thanks-Stuffing Day

Thanksgiving. Hmmm. I think I'm going to rename it. Foodgiving? Thanksfood? Food Holiday? Food Day? Fooday Holiday? I Love Food So Much Day? I've got it.

NomNom Day. I'm a genius.

Maybe we'll talk for a second about 20 things that make me happy. Well, that and some other stuff. Thanks-stuff. OOH. Thanks-Stuffing Day! It works so well!

1) Food.

2) Family.

3) The fact that my sister has practiced the flute since last time I was here.

4) Slow internet connection that makes me spend more time with my family before ten pm.

5) Pretty hair and mirrors (I'm not vain. I'm not.....Ok, maybe a little. But only a little. I'm only vain when good songs come on the radio. And there are mirrors. And I'm dancing. And I have good hair. Ok...)

6) Staying in the house for two days straight. I may not be thankful for that tomorrow.

7) Did you know that "hole" and "whole" are homonyms and antonyms at the same time? Yeah, I just figured that out.

8) My dog. She's old. She might be dead soon. She stinks and I'll miss her.

9) Fuzzymunch. He and I agree on a lot of points.

10) My roommate. I don't know anybody who has ever made me laugh more or who I could live with for such a long period of time without blowing up...I may be setting myself up for failure here. Shh. Let's forget I said anything. I don't want a fight before Christmas. (yeah, in this picture she WAS making wings out of paper bags. Don't worry about it.)

11) Deodorant.

12) Movies that make you think. Actually, I kind of hate those.

13) Choices. I hate those too, but they increase one's thinking abilities. See above.

14) The ability to one day have children. Yay uterus!

15) Children's books.

16) Chacos. I put mine away for the winter and I've been crying every day since. I've also been writing them love letters, as those are my only real connection to them while they are gone. Dear chacos, I miss you more than anything. You have been my most faithful companions since the moment I put you on and my heart is crying because we can't be together right now. Just know that I grow more fond of you each day. See you in a few short months, my Sweetiemunchkin and Honeyboobear. We'll be together as soon as shorts come back in fashion. Miss you more than you know, your Lovepeach. 


17) You know, I might be insane. --Also thankful for that fact.

18) Dress-up clothes.

19) Carpets, a blessing and a curse.

20) Homemade frappuccinos.

There are really a lot of things to be thankful for. It's been quite a year. There are all the big external things that I did--going to Africa, working with foreign university students, writing that #@$&@#*$ Dewey paper, etc--and then there are all these little things, like growing closer to my family, having an incredible (not perfect, but pretty cool) roommate, and owning a car. I found that there's a lot to appreciate after you've spent a few months in Uganda.

Then there are all those things that hurt but are good and prove that God is in control. Things like people leaving you, making the choice to forgive when it's hard (and not always succeeding, but actively working on it), trying to figure out how to reach out to hurting friends, making grown-up decisions, and doing all those things that I will have to keep doing for the rest of my life. Things that I know will get harder.

One of my friends lost her sister this year, and it's been so hard to watch her struggle through the grief. She's an inspiration. She's made me appreciate my sister so much more, even though my sister is pesky and rambles about boys sometimes...ok, all the time...but I am so blessed to have a family without a hole in it. I don't take that for granted.

There's this great song by Taylor Swift called "Never Grow Up". It makes me cry. I'm not ready, I've never been ready, to grow up. There's something in me that will never grow up--that's why I'm going to be a teacher. But I'm almost there--ADULTHOOD (well, kind of there. I'm not calling it that until I'm out of college, because being in college, or at least not in my own house yet, doesn't count). It's exciting, it's cool, and it's terrifying. God's got it, I know he does, but I always go back to that moment when I was ten, lying in my bed, clutching my panda and crying because one day I would have to move away and go to college and leave my toys behind. Well, mom got rid of a lot of the toys behind my back and I did go to college, but in a few years the high school trophies and silly pictures on these bedroom walls will all be put away and this room will not be the same place I used to play princess in.

*sigh*

Then again, I might not notice so much because I will be distracted by whatever else God has put in my life, like a pineapple farm, or twenty adopted children, or jetpacks.

And then, suddenly, I will be old and looking at heaven, going, "Land sakes alive, didn't I just graduate yestiddy?? What happened!? I growed up?---NAW! Oh LAWD!"

Nevermind. Growing up may not be that bad.

Alone in a bathroom

Let's talk for a second about how the last 24 hours have gone. 

We went the Harry Potter midnight premier. There were seven of us, and there would have been seven seats in a row in the theater if one guy had moved down one seat....he turned and looked at us and said, "I like my seat."  The show, however, was superb. 

We started coming up the mountain around 3:30 am. Then Kait got sick all over the front seat, so we had to pull over. Thirty minutes later, I was in car with Amy and Jedidiah Jones, heading back up the mountain, trying my very hardest not to puke.

Fast forward to 7:00 am, when I finally peeled myself out of the bathroom to go to bed because I thought I was feeling better. Fast forward another hour and a half, when I ran back into the bathroom. In fact, the majority of my day has been spent in this lovely room. What does one do in a blandly decorated bathroom for an entire day? 

Several things. 

One looks at bathroom tiles and makes up stories about the characters she sees in them (One story went like this: Once there were two turtles named Myrtle and Mickey. Myrtle liked the color blue. Mickey liked the color pink. One day they decided to come together and make purple, and they were best friends forever. The end.)

 One studies the daisies in the bottom of her puke-bowl. 

One has hallucinations about Harry Potter and how awesome he is (1 1/2 hours of sleep in 24 hours is not enough, folks. Add in dehydration, and things get qurazay!).

 One sings Disney songs to herself. 

One takes the nausea and tries to pretend it is something else, like labor. Then one thinks about how much worse it would be to be in labor, and feels better about her life. 

One receives a phone call from the auto shop and finds out that the work needing to be done to her car is $500 and won't be finished til Monday. What's it matter--one can't pick up her car today anyway. 

One cancels a weekend trip to visit her cousin in Atlanta. 

One gets really ticked at Nurse Barb, who won't give her meds unless she walks all the way up to the office to get them (now, really, Nurse Barb. There's probably a reason I've spent the entire day in the bathroom unable to visit you). 

One dozes on the cold floor. 

There's really a plethora of things to do when one is stuck in the bathroom. 

I think it's about over....I'm sitting up on the computer, only slightly nauseated. And still, it's not been a bad day. I've felt much like an old crazy woman in a nursing home, wrapped up in a blanket singing and talking to herself. 

Whoah. I realized that I just unintentionally dieted for a whole day. 

SCORE!

Famous and Not on Drugs. I'm a Rarity.

Serious music makes me feel serious.

That's not entirely truthful.

It's Friday night. How did I spend it? I helped a lady clean her house. Then I came back and did homework. Everyone else went places like the mall or the movies, and I'm the cool kid who did productive things that will one day benefit society and especially me. For example, one day when that mom and her family are rich and famous, they will remember me and pull some strings to make me rich and famous also. And, more plausibly, doing homework will help me get a degree, which will get me a job as a teacher and I will become rich and famous on my own (that may actually be less plausible)! I have a really great montage going on in my mind right now.

Teacher Laura (holding trophy on stage): "I would like to thank everyone that helped me get this Oscar. My family who believed in me, my loyal friends, that *$%$*#%&$*&% Dewey paper I spent endless hours working on in order to graduate, and my beloved and slightly bratty fifth graders who helped me launch my rich-and-famous....teaching...career.
People in audience begin to whisper, "Wait, she went to college? She isn't really an actress? Why is she here?!?!

*ahem*

Word of the day: John Dewey. He is the word (haha...word up, Dewey-boy!) until November 30th. Yes, right after Thanksgiving. Thank you, Dr. Kauffman. Or Kaufmann. I can never remember. 

I seem to have acquired a new identity this week--"Baba Larve". It was acquired in two parts. The first, "Larve", is a combination of my first and last name and makes me sound like a nasty swamp insect-monster. The second came about like this: We were in Barnes and Noble last week and Alyssa made me read the fairytale Baba Yaga in a Russian accent. So 2 + 2 = "Baba Larve". And what does Baba Larve wear? A turban with a long sequined Russian skirt of wisdom. She also stuffs her bosom and stomach with plastic bags. Sometimes my roommate claims I do drugs....but I don't. I'm not sure where she gets this idea. Baba Larve would be absolutely terrifying on crack cocaine. 

I draw this little cartoon character named Fuzzymunch when I'm bored in class, and he is all that I aspire to be and more. But sometimes I do think he does drugs. 

The PCA Global Missions Conference was last weekend. Our church choir sang in it (I only sing in the choir because they let me dance onstage which I'm singing. Like Fuzzymunch. Good ole Gospel choir) and it was awesome. Going to a missions conference made me think about going overseas again. Until a couple weeks ago, I thought my life after graduation would go like this:

1) Get a master's degree. 

2) Teach. 

3) Get an apartment and four cats and three dogs. Or less than that. 

4) Eventually have children...with a man. 

5) Live....somewhere.

But I figured out that getting your master's too early is a bad idea for education majors, so now maybe I'll go teach overseas for a bit. I can't forget that last summer in Uganda was hard, even though it was a blessing. Being single overseas is not fun...here it's not so bad, there you just get lonely and gape at any American male who crosses your path. Leaving family for a long time isn't fun either, but since my plan next summer is to stay home, I'm hoping I'll be sick enough of my family after four months with them to last me another two years. 

I got a bad sunburn this week after doing a project outside for two hours. It's November, folks. Sunburns are NOT in style. 

I learned this week that off-campus college students live off of cheap food like corndogs and funfetti. And, when they get really desperate, the occasional spear-hunted mouse. (the last one has yet to be visually confirmed) 

Four of the paragraphs in this blog began with the word "I". Narcissist, much?

I spent a lot of this week contemplating things that aren't in my control. Not that I'm a total control freak, but I am a fixer (as are most women, it seems). But this verse was my favorite (we'll make it verse of the week):

"All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." 

--Psalm 139:16

I love the fact that God knows what he's doing, because I sure as heck don't. He even has everything written down in a planner...man, this guy is organized....

Oh lawww......

Word of the day: catharsis. I need a bit of that.

Let's talk about some random stuff.

Guinea pigs. I had a staredown with one the other day. I thought about sticking my hand in the cage and picking him up, but every time I unlatched the door he started freaking out and doing kung fu, like in the the movie G-Force.

Kindergarten soccer. A bunch of midgets mowing one another down while chasing a ball around a field and occasionally kicking it. And one really angry coach who seems to think that these 5-year-olds actually know all the rules of soccer.

Oatmeal and honey. Superb idea at first, but sickening after a while. You turn into a giant, dry ball of fiber. 

Ripped seams. I have no needles to fix them with, so I simply have to wallow in misery while I wear them, thinking about how much I wish they were fixed.

Halloween. Mmmm.

Country music. Makes me feel like a homebody in love. But I am neither. 

AIDS. A really depressing topic that reminds me of my kids in Africa. 

Knitting. A good way to pass chapel. 

Shower Safety. A way to keep yourself from passing out and dying in the shower. Step one: "Oh, I feel woozy."---Turn off the water. Step two: Step out of the shower. Step three: Lay on the ground and raise your knees to get good blood flow. Step four: When you feel better, drink something. Shower safety is key!

Rape of Nanking. A massacre that occurred in China. I had to write a paper on it. The topic made me depressed, so Lisa forced me to play with play-doh. I made a wanton.

Expired food. Bad idea. 

Bonfires and carved pumpkins. Games of hotseat and hitch, bang, or kill. 

Miscommunication. Sometimes it results in conflict, but other times it results in really hilarious phrases. Examples: 

"It's Hello Weenie Time!"

"They close at....terror."

"My sinner is in my buttocks."

Best night of the month--DISNEYPRINCESSONICE!!!!!!

Psalm 139. I've read it every day for the last week.

Everyone in this room is on the computer or iphone. Community at its finest. 

Taun-taun. My roommate taught me how to walk like one. 

Last minute presentations on Africa. I'm getting pretty good at those. 

Growing pains. 

Candy. 

Feta cheese. 

Knee-high socks and converse. 

Breaking fall, and cars.

My roommate is gone and it's terribly quiet in here. Too quiet. She'll be back in a little bit, with everybody else....but this is weird. I'm almost expecting a ninja to pop out of ceiling any moment, just as another one of her cruel tricks to make me scream. She was gone all last night, which was awfully creepy, because this is a big room with a lot of shadows and noises. I tried sleeping with a night light on, but it was red and I felt like I was lying in hell. Then I turned it off and pulled the covers over my head to protect myself from the goblins in my room that only come out when I'm alone in the dark. YIKES. Needless to say, if I ever have an apartment on my own, I am adopting four cats and three dogs so I'm not by myself....

Word of the week: Fall Break. Or lack thereof, as it is actually OVER.

I'm going to back up a night before fall break.

Every once in a while, my roommate and I have these really crazy, but not drug-induced nights (unless someone slipped something into my cereal...) Anyhow, it all started with an evening of the second Harry Potter movie. This turned into a game of figuring out how to rearrange everyone's names into something epic, like Tom Marvolo Riddle does with "I am Lord Voldemort". We came up with stuff like, "I am lil' Leech Sna'ell" and "I am Loony Trek" and "I am Blue Gray Carrot". Mine was "Larve, u so real." [which is funny because Larve is what Lisa and Alyssa call me] ANYWAY, around midnight, everyone left and Lisa and I went wacko, beginning with Lisa's idea to go into Kait and Amy's room: "Ok, I'll be the t-rex and you be the pterodactyl" leading to "I'm a rap artist!" to "I MOLTED." to "I can speak BLIND language!" to "I'm an origami lotus flower, I blossom, and I die" to "There's a koala in the couch!" to "What if everybody walked around like a zombie---like this..." to going to bed around 2 am. It's like being freshmen all over again, but with a more tired feeling when you wake up in the morning.

The next day, I took Emma St. John home for fall break. We had a splendid time. We went to Rainforest Adventures, where she almost peed her pants holding a snake. We went to {gorgeous} Cades Cove and decided where our house, church, and barn were, who our future husbands would be, and what we would do with our lives (eat turkey, ride bears, wear bonnets, birth babies, etc.) I took her to Gatlinburg, where we had {delectable} donuts and someone parked behind our car, meaning that we couldn't get out for a good thirty minutes and had to listen to a {LOUD} bluegrass concert. We ate some food at the Tin Roof cafe with {hilarious} Jordan Mitchell and got 0 studying done, regardless of our high goals. We also watched The Princess Diaries, Babies, Driving Miss Daisy, Jonas LA, and a lot of Justin Bieber youtube videos.

Beulah was at the car hospital three out of five of those days. They changed her oil, gave her new wheel bearings, and put on new brake pads (which was an accident--so I got those for free!). But, when I drove out of the parking lot,  I tried to go straight and ended up turning right--YIKES steering wheel misalignment. So I had to take her back...and then they had to drive her somewhere else to get fixed....and we didn't leave for another two hours....and Beulah was very, very upset.

Our room finally has a rug, thanks to TJ Maxx. But I still need to go shopping this weekend, because green chacos don't match very well with purple toes.

Fall doesn't actually appeal to me very much because I don't enjoy being cold or having to wear clothes. In fact, I would love to live in a world where I had to do neither of those things.

My roommate isn't back yet. I may need to go out and buy a kitten soon.

Song of the day: Jesse's Girl

Total Creeper

My mood changes with the wind. I have come up with a list of factors that affect my mood:
-background music. Sometimes guitar music makes me weep for NO REASON.
-amount of sleep the previous night. Less than 6 hours and you don't know what will happen next.
-the dreams I had during that sleep. Beautiful boyfriend? Good day. Dead sister? Bad day.
-food--partly dependent on the time of day it's eaten, who it's eaten with, and how much is eaten. Wilted salad at lunchtime, bad. Fifty-six pumpkin muffies with hallmates at 10 pm....sickeningly good.
-coffee and the time of day I drink it. Morning--perfect pick-up. Test time-AaAaAhHhH!.!.!.! mY pEnCiL wOn'T dO wHaT i WaNt WhAt'S wRoNg WiTh Me?!?!
-weather. Fog for more than six hours is like God telling me it's a day to weep.
-how many people I interact with. Just my roommate? I'm a tragic social outcast. Someone different every ten minutes? Dude, I'm so popular.
-then there are actual events that take place, those things that are supposed to affect your mood. Those are actually the least important, unless someone is dying.

Word of the day: Friday. It's. About. Time.

I had five tests over five consecutive days, as well as two papers and half a project. Basically, I'm reaching a state of scholastic apathy. A? B? D? Whatever. I just want to be done.

My mom is so cute. Over our last few phone conversations, she's given detailed war stories of her encounters with skunks, my dog Missy, skunks + Missy, and how bad the garage smells now.

The new Fritz is beginning to absorb its freshmen--finally. On Day of Prayer last week, eight Fritzers went to Rock City and had a breakfast picnic in the woods. It was fabulous.

Told you. The freshmen are AWESOME. Oh wait, one of those is me...

Speaking of freshmen and possible future freshmen, preview weekend was last weekend. The Fritz is very welcoming of its previewers. 

Actually, all of those were written by me. Someone else erased them. I'm not sure why.

Sometimes I accidentally refer to The Fritz like it's a cult. 

The Phantom of the Opera is a lot creepier movie than I remember it being. Sorry Christine, but a stalker man in a dank undergound lair with your mannequin in a wedding dress is NOT attractive, even if he is Gerard Butler. 

This Sunday at church, I sat next to a couple I knew and held their baby as the mom went up to sing. When it was meet-and-greet time, I turned to shake hands with a lady behind me and found that she was really interested in MY baby. Uhhh....

I said "thank you" to a Korean War veteran wearing spiffy red-white-and-blue suspenders in Walmart the other day and he lit up. It was great.

Principles in Sociology is by far my most interesting class this semester. Yesterday, I did a stalking project with a partner for class. It was called a "symbolic interaction" assignment, but, let's be honest, it was flat-out stalking. We tried to creep on some folks in Chik-fil-a, but that's actually harder than it sounds, so we went to the mall and followed a mom and three girls into Aeropostle--or maybe it was Abercrombie. Anyway, these girls were 6-8 years old, and the smallest one was a total whiner who ballet danced all the way to the store. The oldest one was a stick-in-the-mud and the middle girl was the youngest girl's friend, so she wasn't terribly interesting. The mom dressed like a sixteen-year-old and was about ready to sleep on the next available mall bench. The project says we have to figure out the hopes and dreams of these people. My educated guesses:

The mom is terribly depressed about not making it as America's next top model, but wants to make sure that her daughters do. She also wants a really long vacation. She entertains thoughts of leaving her youngest behind in a mall dressing room and running away to Hollywood to be an actress. 

The youngest wants to be a ballet dancer/actress/model and entertains thoughts of leaving her mother behind in a dressing room to run away to Hollywood. 

The best friend wants to do the exact same thing. 

The oldest girl feels that her dreams are being suppressed, and one day she is going to wake up and realize that she has enormous talent in the field of singing and songwriting. She, of the four, will make it stardom on the wings of her musical abilities and her sad guitar songs will one day make me weep my eyes out on a foggy day when I have three girls of my own and have just eaten fifteen pumpkin muffies for dinner.

I began tutoring a kindergartner this week, and it's going to be more challenging than I expected. He needs to learn his letters---but they won't stick for anything. Basically, if I can help this kid out, I can do anything when I'm a teacher. 

Diary of a Wimpy Kid is the funniest book I've ever read. 

I saw a founders boy in white shorts and fuzzy Ugg boots. I was a little creeped out.

God's teaching me about forgiveness this week. It's kind of a hard lesson to learn, because it's not one of those instantaneous lessons (who am I kidding? How many of God's lessons are instantaneous?). Forgiveness is a heart change--not just a feeling. It's weird, needing to learn to forgive someone I thought I was close to, who I love. I just pray that, rather than being angry over getting shut out of her life, I remember that I love her. And I pray that she realizes it too. 

Song of the day: 

One Upon a December from Anastasia.