Isn't this cool?!?!

You know how I get excited about things...I think I'm voting for him. <--That's a link, btw.

I Stole My Brother's Camera...

Well, you see, the sky was interesting one morning at 6:30 ish. It was as if a cloud just sat on top of our house or something...we were totally enclosed in a fog, but the fog was several feet off the ground. It was weird. So I took Marck's camera (not having one of my own, you see), and took a few pictures...

I took this after photographing the above...I started feeling all photographer-ish, and wanted to take a picture of something that would be in a pretty magazine...

That was the day after my birthday, I think. On my birthday, the H's, the T's, and my family had a cookout. It wasn't FOR my birthday, but it sure was fun. Here are some highlights from my birthday (Marck took all these, by the way):

Me being woken up by the paparazzi...not really wanting a picture taken of me right as I wake up.

This is actually me, under the covers, hiding from the camera.

Me (on the left), Lizzie (foreground right) and Sarah (next to Lizzie) planning the Quotes Only Blog.

Lizzie and me trying to do synchro

Five-A-Live:

All in all, it was a great birthday!! I did get my license renewed *huzzah*. However, now it says "under 21" instead of "under 18." I can't get away from any sort of conviction of that sort, can I? *sigh*

Either Marck or I will have some pictures from the pool party the following Saturday very soon.

~Jessica

A Tale of a Tuesday Morning

YES...I know it's Thursday now. And this will have to actually be short because somehow in the process of playing the guitar I sprained my left pinky finger, and it hurts exceedingly terrible. Okay, that was a bad attempt at being descriptive. Nonetheless, if any q's, a's, or z's are missing from my narrative, you know why.

So Tuesday morning, I was rendered Groggy Beyond Repair. After I had driven out of the driveway only to be almost run over by a car speeding up the hill and around the curve (we don't really have an ideal location for our driveway), I made up my mind that in order to prevent any more accidents, I must get some coffee. Sure, I had already had one cup, but that was 3 1/2 hours before I had gotten in the car! So I was off to Starbucks.

I walked in quickly, wanting to get out of the humidity as soon as possible. You must understand, humidity does abhorable things to my hair. I will not go into detail...you'll see for yourself sooner or later. So I shuffled over to the cash register, and a blonde woman with freckles and plastic-rimmed glasses said to me "Hiiii-ya, what can I get you this morning?!?!?!" in a very valley-girl sort of accent, in a very hyper fashion. It seemed innocent enough...typical Starbuckian behavior.

I said, "I'll take a grande caramel latte with whip and drizzle."
Before I could get past the grande caramel latte part, however, she said, "Grande caramel latteeeeeee, good choice!!!"

So I tried to repeat myself, "With whip and drizzle, please..."

Before I could get past saying "whip" again, she exclaimed, "With whip, oh, awesome!! Would you like drizzle on that too at no extra charge?"

"Yes," I muttered, attempting to act pleasant.

"Alright, that will be *insert actual price that I cannot remember here*."

So, I had two giftcards that looked exactly the same. I thought that I had marked one with a "B" because it was from Barb, and left the one from Elayna without any markings on it, so I could remember which one had more money on it. Alas, all I could find was one blank and one with a number "2" on the front. Being really really really sleepy as stated before, I concluded that the one from Barb was the one with nothing written on it, even though I had gotten the one from her second, so naturally I would have written number "2" on it.

I gave the lady the blank card, and she scanned it, looked at the screen for a second, and then started rambling on about something. I'm sure I looked at her quite confusedly, and perhaps I was the one in the wrong because I was not fully awake. But she kept saying, "You owe, like, two dollars and eighty-seven cents on your card."

I blinked cluelessly.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" She asked, still in valley girl mode.

"Uh...no," I confessed.

"I scanned your card, and now you, like, owe, like, two dollars and eighty-seven cents on it," she repeated, handing the card back to me.

"Oh..." I nodded. And then, being sleepy, as usual, I just handed her the $50 bill I had in my wallet, instead of reaching in for the other Starbucks card. Somehow in that moment I had also acquired the notion that Barb had given me a card with only $1 on it, instead of the actual $15.

Because of the fifty, it took her a long time to make change. In that lengthy moment, I finally put two and two together and realized I had used the wrong card. She gave me my change and said that momentarily my drink would b up.

I threw the old card away and waited what seemed like an eternity for my drink, which the Valley Girl Coffee Lady also made, while talking to all her co-workers about who-knows-what, in that same accent. The only good thing about it was that she wasn't paying her entire attention to what she was doing, and gave me a LOT of whipped cream.

That was my only consolation.

I sped out of the shop with my drink, drove around the shopping center a couple times searching for an exit facing in the direction I wanted to go, and finally sped on out of there to school. To calm my rage (rather, a constant rolling of my eyes--so I'm not sure how I got there in one piece), I was able to find a parking spot fairly quickly that WASN'T in Alaska.

This morning I went to the same shopping center, but instead of the main Starbucks, I went to the one inside Harris Teeter. What wonderful reasonable people work there!! Well, the barista didn't give me SO much whipped cream...but to actually deal with a sane race made that a minor setback.

And I found an even closer parking space this morning... :D

Quote, quote, quotes, unquote, are stupid, unquote...

For everyone's general knowledge, my friends and I (not all my friends, but a few so far) have started a blog for quotes. It's that simple. There's a link on the sidebar where I have all my links to all my favorite blogs...this is going to be fun!!!

Again, can't contain my excitement...*jumps around overenthusiastically, and everyone rolls their eyes...it's just natural, everyday Jessica-like behavior...*

I'll write later about my misadventures with the Valley Girl Coffee Lady...

The Free Heart

I. My Heart

My heart is standing
Alone in an empty room
Not sure of what to do with itself
Not running from anything
Not longing for someone

My heart feels as if it’s floating
Cut free from bondage
The ominous, demonic burden
Of loving someone I cannot have

My heart feels like it has broken free
It’s soaring high above the trees
But then again, I wonder
What depth there is to me

My heart was never exposed
He never saw who I really am inside
And so I guess he will never know
Perpetually I will hide

II. My Love

When I look at his face
I see it differently now
Just an old friend, a comrade
Not one I long for affection from

I felt as if I knew
And was quite comfortable with
Letting passion blow away
Like a flame kissed by the wind
Smoke is created, winding around
But soon there’s no sign of its presence

I wonder if I am really
Over the love I felt
Reassurance is found in the fact that
While the smoke may still
Take a while to disperse
The flame is lost forever

I have made the right choice
He is no longer “mine”
I am no longer “his”
Our lives will no longer entwine
Our memories lost in the abyss

III. For You

I wish to share my thoughts
Let you know there’s more to me
But I tell you, leave now
Before I hurt you more
I cannot tell you anything
Except what you will never know

I would have liked to
Fall in love with you
But I never can
Alone here I’ll stand

But it makes me wonder-
Who is the one who is really alone?
I am not alone
I have a free heart
Are you the one alone, because my heart has left you?
Loose yourself from me because
Your heart is free as well

~JCB

Sometimes other people say it better...

Incase you were wondering how I feel right now…it’s weird. This entry is long, but not because of me. I just put the lyrics to three songs on here…links so you can listen. I love these songs right now, and “Viva la Vida.” I didn’t put that on here, figuring that at this moment it’s popular enough…

SUDDENLY I SEE - -KT TUNSTALL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-At6avvY_4

Her face is a map of the world
Is a map of the world
You can see she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl

And everything around her is a silver pool of light
The people who surround her feel the benefit of it
It makes you calm
She holds you captivated in her palm

Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
Why the hell it means so much to me

I feel like walking the world
Like walking the world
You can hear she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl

She fills up every corner like she's born in black and white
Makes you feel warmer when you're trying to remember
What you heard
She likes to leave you hanging on her word

Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
Why the hell it means so much to me

And she's taller than most
And she's looking at me
I can see her eyes looking from a page in a magazine
Oh she makes me feel like I could be a tower
A big strong tower
She got the power to be
The power to give
The power to see

Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
Why the hell it means so much to me


STILL FIGHTING IT - - BEN FOLDS
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOI1HAq4XcU

Good morning, son.
I am a bird
Wearing a brown polyester shirt
You want a coke?
Maybe some fries?
The roast beef combos only $9.95
Its okay, you don’t have to pay
I’ve got all the change

Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
Its so weird to be back here
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We’re still fighting it, we’re still fighting it
And you’re so much like me
I’m sorry

Good morning, son
In twenty years from now
Maybe we’ll both sit down and have a few beers
And I can tell you ‘bout today
And how I picked you up and everything changed
It was pain
Sunny days and rain
I knew you’d feel the same things

Everybody knows
It sucks to grow up
And everybody does
It’s so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We’re still fighting it, we’re still fighting it
You’ll try and try and one day you’ll fly
Away from me

Good morning, son
I am a bird
It was pain
Sunny days and rain
I knew you’d feel the same things

Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
Its so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
Were still fighting it, were still fighting it
Oh, were still fighting it, were still fighting it
And you’re so much like me
I’m sorry


WHEN YOU COME BACK DOWN - - NICKEL CREEK
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MNtxQ3CQhhA – live performance…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGXt8TLxmM0&feature=related – Normal recording, with LotR Images…(just look away and listen...it's cheesy and ruins the whole song)

You got to leave me now, you got to go alone
You got to chase a dream, one that's all your own
Before it slips away

When you're flyin' high, take my heart along
I'll be the harmony to every lonely song
That you learn to play

When you're soarin' through the air
I'll be your solid ground
Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down
When you come back down

I'll keep lookin' up, awaitin' your return
My greatest fear will be that you will crash and burn
And I won't feel your fire

I'll be the other hand that always holds the line
Connectin' in between your sweet heart and mine
I'm strung out on that wire

And I'll be on the other end
To hear you when you call
Angel, you were born to fly
If you get too high, I'll catch you when you fall
I'll catch you when you fall

Your memory's the sunshine every new day brings
I know the sky is calling
Angel, let me help you with your wings

When you're soarin' through the air
I'll be your solid ground
Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down
Take every chance you dare
I'll still be there
When you come back down
When you come back down


Aren’t those great songs…? *sigh*

Happy Birthday to Me!!!

I'm 18, Whoopee!

I wished for a pet giraffe

And all I got was...was...something that rhymes with "ee"...


Well, I get my real license today. That means that, when I drive after nine now, I don't have to be really inconspicuous...

~Jessica

The Little Conference – Day Two

1. I drank 3 cups of coffee
2. It’s spelled “Andrew Pudewa”, not “Andrew Pudawa”
3. He gave a GREAT keynote speech which I will probably blog more about on a later date after I’ve read some things he recommended people to during the speech by John Taylor Gatto
4. I never saw the really nice, sweet guy named Will again…it was very sad
5. I concluded I wanted to go into the wilderness to find myself and breech the path into adulthood
6. My parents concluded that they were not going to let me do this
7. *very large sigh on the account of item #6*
8. There was this annoying guy who kept staring at me and started pathetically tossing a football around very near me while his brother helped another family load up their van (which he was supposed to be doing), and we loaded up ours. I made a point to not give him the slightest satisfaction of having any of my attention (aside from noticing how annoying he was in the first place).
9. My mom and I actually TALKED to THE Andrew Pudewa
10. I went to a session on distance education and now I’m not sure AGAIN what I want to do with myself…AAAARRRRRGGGGGG!!!!!! (puts away pirate hat, sword, and eye patch hastily and looks around as if nothing happened)
11. As we were leaving…guess who I saw!!! Keith and Kristen Getty, just walking around!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
12. Oh, and I saw Josh C., too…he and I said “Hi” and “see you at water polo”
13. Some random kid said I should do gymnastics in the Olympics
14. I avoided my urge to tell him that having not done gymnastics for 12 years and being 5’ 8” didn’t really qualify me for doing that
15. We went to Kabuki Steakhouse for dinner
16. It was yummy, but some lady kept complaining about the freshness of her pickled ginger, and left.
17. We declared her a Sushi Diva
18. We went to Target for dog food and I looked at the clothes longingly
19. I went outside to sing with the crickets……this song (click "more info" on the sidebar for the lyrics), among a few of my own…
20. I fell asleep on the deck of the office
21. I woke up, freezing, grabbed my guitar, went inside, and went to bed

Well, it was a nice day…

The Little Conference - Day One

One thing our family used to do is homeschool conferences. I don’t mean the typical homeschool family that makes a trip to their local conference once a year to get curriculum and maybe listen to speakers. We have this business, you see. It’s called “Active Learner School Supplies”, and the main products are marker boards with different educational “markings” on them…some look like notebook paper, some like maps, some like football fields…very hard to explain, but the website is http://active-learner.com. Anyways, we used to travel to many different conferences as vendors when I was younger, for probably three or four years. It was kind of stressful, but it was so much fun! We’ve stopped, but then a woman we know who lives near us asked us if we wanted to come and be vendors at her little conference at Colonial this weekend. We said yes! It’s been different than it used to be, but still it’s kind of like going back to the old days…

I got up…slowly…ate breakfast, did weed eating (finally figured out that the problem with the string was that I wound it in the wrong direction…heh, heh…), showered, got readied, and mom and I left. The guys had already gotten there to start setting up. We finished setting up…and I wanted to get in my nice clothes, but it was FREEZING!! So I skipped the skirt and just put on my shirt, running into Mrs. A in the restroom. She used to test me, and asked what I was planning on doing. She was so nice…she said that marketing and advertising, even though I was just starting off doing a little bit for my dad, was a real good field for me to get into, since writing seemed to be my “thing”…and it paid more than an English teacher. How nice of her…and to think I’ve been afraid of her all these years! I really like not having to be tested ever again.

After a bit, mom and I went to the first session, going to go see Andrew Pudawa speak. He teaches writing…created some curriculum called “Excellence in Writing” that my brothers use, and occasionally I watch for entertainment’s sake. He talked a lot about creating writers, and that the main thing is talking a lot as a family, and reading out loud to children of any age. I thought the talk was fascinating.

After that, I was really, really, really, really cold. My feet had fallen asleep because I had taken off my flip-flops during the session, sat Indian-style, and tucked my freezing feet up in between my hamstrings and calves. I walked to the Tribute, and with my feet still asleep, drove back to the house (it was kind of a strange experience). I let the rained-on dogs inside, grabbed a sweater, and then drove to the Y’s house. I got in the trash, got the mail, checked on Benny the bunny (he wasn’t hungry), and quickly drove back to Colonial and walked in 10 minutes late to a session on music therapy. There was a very nice guy assisting with the presentation…he had just served an internship with the company who was giving it. He was very nice. I already said that. He apparently had already graduated from college and was about to study for a few weeks (maybe?) to become officially a neurological musical therapist. Did I mention how nice he was? I came in the back, and was going to sit down in the very back, but he came, smiling, to give me the piece of paper that went along with the presentation, and asked if I wanted to sit closer to the front. I consented. Later we were doing a rhythm exercise. I didn’t get the triangle. Well…nobody did, so that was alright. However, I got a triangle-shaped drum kind of thing. The lady leading the presentation was short a mallet to hit it, so she asked the guy (whose name was Will) to get me one. He brought it to me, kind of tripping for no reason. He said it was because he thought that a red stripe in the otherwise green carpet was something he had to step over…….so he handed me my mallet and smiled, briefly touching my shoulder before turning around and heading back towards the front. So we did the exercise, and then the woman collected some instruments, and Will the others. He came all the way down the otherwise empty row to get mine, saying “Thank you very much!” when I handed them to him...I said, “You’re welcome very much.” Wow. Originality and depth of thought just ABOUND, don’t they? Well…at least I didn’t say he had swishy hair, because he didn’t. When I went out the door, I told him “Thank you”, because the lady in front of me did. He said “You’re welcome, take care!” Which he did NOT say to the lady in front of me. I probably blushed, and couldn’t say anything else, so I just nodded shyly and went out…AND I’LL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN!!! *tear* He was SO nice. He also kind of looked like the guy who played Gilbert in Anne of Green Gables…Jonathan Crombie, I think his name is. He sort of seemed like a Rockwell, too. Oh, how I wonder…*sigh*

I finally met up with the rest of my family down at the booth, but was quickly dragged away again by this lady who sells healthy Superfood-type-drinks, wondering if I wanted another free sample. I had my free sample (it IS very good…), and then we wandered over to this other booth selling nature books. It was run by this New Zealand couple who really like animals. They were telling me about all the zoos they had been to. They said they’ve never heard of Wolf Park, but there is this place called Alligator River in North Carolina where a guy will take you out on a boat a dusk, and call to the wolves, who will call back. Apparently those particular wolves are a hybrid between the Mexican red wolf and the coyote. Isn’t that neat? And their accents were sooooo cool…they were pretty neat people.

So, we closed up and went home. We watched Mythbusters, and now we’re watching the Olympics. If I get a chance, I’ll probably blog tomorrow. Seeya!

The Sonata

Frustration!
Temporary relief.
Frustration…again!
Pity…
Relief again.
MAJOR FRUSTRATION!!
Drawing conclusions…
Having conclusions shattered.
Thus, MORE FRUSTRATION!!!
A moment of mourning and sadness…
Then…
In an exhausted huff: RENOUNCING THIS WHOLE FRUSTRATION THING ALL TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!!!

Such is Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony…adieu.

Can I Say Something About Lurking?

My next poll should be on this: Which is worse?

1. Having a blog and never posting
2. Having a blog, never posting, but wanting people to read it anyways
3. Having a blog, never posting, but lurking around on other people's blogs
4. Having a blog, posting very occasionally, and only logging on to see if you have comments
5. Having a blog, posting very occasionally, logging on to see if you have comments, and responding to them
6. Having a blog, posting very occasionally, logging on to see if you have comments, and responding to them ONLY and OFTEN, never bothering to go check out anybody else's blog, but obviously expecting people to check out yours
7. Having a blog, and posting 3 times a day, never even giving your readers a chance to read all of them, therefore dooming your chances of being "heard"
8. Not having a blog (sad face)
9. Having a blog, and trashing other bloggers on it in an unintentionally convicting way...

Oops, that's me.

Yeah, sorry. I just was thinking about this, and I'm not pointing any fingers, because anybody who I'd be pointing fingers at wouldn't navigate away from his own blog to read this anyway. :P This is all in fun and games...I like poking at people's habits. It's fun. People are so interesting with all their quirks... :)

The Chaos and the Hope

Distinct is the absence
Of thought in this world
Through with the oppression
Of fraud and of hate

Careless visions crowd my skull
Advocating for memories revealed
I cannot transfer images to page
Where will I go now?

Sumptuous dreams of freedom and peace
Drown out my screams of misery
A place I’m not sure I want to be
But how do I get somewhere else?

Is it possible to show you the things I imagine?
Is there a chance I can be understood?
Otherwise, now there’s much doom and no hope
Find me, follow me, blind me

I only want the one I cannot have
The one I didn’t know I wanted
My heart as gone too far astray
Can these desires please fade away?

Superstitions, assumptions, impatience, temper
Those are the things that keep me apart
From everything I wanted in life
Will I be stuck in this state eternally?

Would you guide me some where
Tell me where I need to go?
I know what I want but I can’t figure out
How I’m supposed to get there

Will you ever find me here amongst these troubles?
Do you know me so well already?
When I think about whom you may be, I smile
All I really want is you

~JCB

Lazy/Boredom Blogging Once Again

5 Facts
1. Middle name: Claire
2. Astrological sign: Leo
3. Eye color: Blue
4. Birth date (Monday, Tuesday...): This year it’s Monday…
5. Home state: North Carolina

5 Favorites
6. Fave movie: Anne of Green Gables movies and Sweeny Todd
7. Fave book: Harry Potter and To Kill a Mocking Bird
8. Fave candy: Snickers
9. Fave makeup: the kind I wear
10. Fave magazine: Psychology

5 People
11. Newest friend: Becca
12. Childhood nemesis: Zach
13. Longest-lasting crush: hmm…not answering that question
14. Role model: Jesus
15. Kindergarten teacher: mom

5 Things
16. My mantra is: “Tomorrow is a Long Time” (Nickel Creek or Bob Dylan version)
17. I can’t find my: nail clippers
18. My friends say that I’m: PERFECTLY NORMAL
19. My parents were going to name me: Caroline, or Marck if I was a boy
20. I would never eat: another human

5 Moments
21. I read my first book when: I guess I was four or five
22. The first time I lost a friend was when: ??? I had a lot of friends when I was little who I don’t know anymore
23. I had a really good laugh when: It’s on the tip of my brain…something really funny happened some time…but it happens a lot
24. I was so proud of myself when: Whenever I say or write something that sounds really profound…
25. If I could, I would go back to: the olden days when times were simpler

5 Places
26. My first kiss happened (or should happen) at: an altar…but let’s not talk about that…
27. I spend most of my time at: the pool
28. I used to hide my diary: between my mattress and the box springs
29. My favorite place to unwind is: my room or outside
30. I'd hate to live in: an apartment complex

5 Either/Ors
31. Morning or night: Do I have to decide?
32. Cats or dogs: dogs
33. Computer or cell phone: computer
34. Pop or soda: soda…duh
35. Vegetables or fruit: fruit by themselves, vegetables in a salad (or superfood!)

5 Ifs
36. If I could move anywhere, it would be: Australia
37. If I were an animal, I would be: A seal…like I said
38. If I could change one thing, it would be: the government
39. If I had one superpower, it would be: again…flying…but now that I think about it, it would be the ability to give myself more superpowers.
40. If I had a million dollars to spend, I would: buy a car, put some aside for insurance, pay for my stuff this year and put the rest in a mutual fund for a while

5 Pasts
41. My first word was: dad or something like that
42. When I played make-believe, I: usually did really dramatic stuff, like running away and getting kidnapped, being forced by my kidnappers to do slave work, then getting out, getting rescued, and escaping narrowly from my pursuing kidnappers back to my safe home…
43. I used to watch, on continual repeat: donut man
44. I can’t believe I worried so much about: guys
45. I was so afraid of: people dressed up as cartoon characters (Mickey Mouse, Chuck E Cheese, etc.)

5 Futures
46. When I grow up, I want to be a: (again) writer, mom, and something musical
47. Before I die, I hope to: go sailing for real (that is, on a larger scale for a longer amount of time)
48. I'll be friends with: my friends I have now
49. I'll live: in a nice older home in an older neighborhood with lots of trees and enough of a yard for my kids to run around in
50. I'll make a difference by: helping people understand other people…

A Lovely Little Rant

Irony is a delicious thing…I think. You see, I have been having another one of my recurring episodes with my Least Favorite Appliance/Machinery Thing, and I was thinking about finally taking out my frustration on my blog. BUT I simply had to click over to Lizzie and Sarah’s blog (where Sarah finally posted but you can’t tell because Lizzie immediately posted two posts on top of Sarah’s. Yes…ho-hum, we can tell who’s the oldest child now, can’t we? Nothing against eldest children. I happen to be one), where I just read of Lizzie’s frustrations with her vacuum cleaner. Thank goodness Enil happened to post a bit of a tribute about how hard women work in the house, including vacuuming, but I believe that was merely a coincidence as well.

Anyways, now I feel as if relaying the long, terrible tale of my godforsaken weed eater is unintentional copy-cat-ing, but I will try to complain as ingeniously as possible, all the while making Lizzie feel better about her own predicament. And yes, Sarah, I did read your lazy blogging. Very non-boredom provoking.

Okay, so as long as I can remember, I’ve had this weed eater problem. I’m really not sure why I have the job in the first place. “It’s not very lady-like” doesn’t seem like a reason that would get me out of doing it. Now, we had this one weed eater before. It was a very nice weed eater. It gave me a little trouble at first, but that was back when I was a young laddie…um…lassie, and I had just started doing the weed eating. The problem is, everything I name George ends up dying. Our sweet little duck named George, the literal “black sheep”, was *gulp* “gotten” by our dog, Nancy. That was very sad. But this weed eater, whose name was George, had a very absentminded caretaker (me, fyi), who had absolutely no clue that putting normal gasoline in a weed eater instead of the gasoline/oil premix stuff, was VERY BAD. So…*cough* *sputter* *screech* and that was the end of poor George, along with the beginning of a long bit of lectures from the rest of my family, who OF COURSE knew that you can’t put gasoline in a weed eater without killing it!!! So I forked over what cash I could and my dad went and bought a new one. This one was NOT NICE and VERY IGNORANT. I named him Abner, but as much as I hated that name, that was Lewis C.’s name in Th’ Un’spected Gift, and Cute little blonde boys are quite far from stupid weed eaters, so I settled on Seth. There are good Seths in this world, but I don’t like the name.

From the moment I first saw Seth I knew he was trouble, and I was right. We’ve hated each other ever since he came to live with us. I didn’t really like weed eating that much before, considering being out in the hot weather, holding heavy equipment that vibrates your hands so much that you get calluses, but this was worse. An excerpt from a book I’ve been writing for about two years…

I looked at it. I thought ogling at it might make it decide to work.
The weed eater sat there insolently.
“Come ON!!” I pleaded.
If it could huff, it would have.
I pushed the clear gas-pumper-bubble-thingy ten more times, mumbling, “‘Easy Start’ indeed.” Then I got up and pulled the crank.
I pulled it exactly fifteen times.
This number would have been satisfactory, aside from the part where it’s supposed to start within one to three yanks of the pully-thingy. I had been doing the same thing for the past half-hour without even the least grunt from the motor, and it was driving me up the wall.
Incensed, I sat down. Mom had said that if I didn’t finish trimming the yard, I couldn’t go to the beach. So I was frenziedly trying to finish, in hopes that I wouldn’t be stuck here at home. But I always had problems when I did the weed eating. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.
So, I decided to ask my dad for help.
He yanked the cursed thing about ten times, and it started.
Either the dang weed eater only responds to the “dad” authority position (similar to my dog) or I’ve got a weak arm. Or maybe I just needed to give it a few more yanks. I could have just as easily started the weed eater, I resolved. It just needed ten more extra yanks.
I tried to thank my dad over the roaring of the engine, and then I went on my way. I was making good progress until I noticed I wasn’t able to get much grass cut down as I made my sweeps. So I hit the string release thing against the ground several times. But nothing string-related was dispensed.
With this lovely new development, I impatiently slammed my hand against the switched that stopped the weed eater, unscrewed the knob, pulled out the string, put everything back together, and then went back to my weed eating.
After about ten minutes, I had the same problem. Only this time, it was a bigger dilemma. Not only would the string not come out, but the screw wouldn’t come un-screwed either.
I was also screwed.
I tried numerous different strategies but all of them made quite a conscious verdict to FAIL.
So I walked inside to take a break, act pitiful and eat cereal.
We were out of milk. Foiled again.
My mom walked in and I explained my current predicament to her. “You’re always coming up with excuses not to do that job.” She smarted.
“But something is always keeping me from not doing ‘that’ job!” I protested. “It’s the weed eater. It sucks. Something is always wrong…”
“Well, we couldn’t afford a nicer one, I’m sorry.” Then she added, “If you hadn’t broken our LAST one…”
“I didn’t mean to!” I objected. “I told you I didn’t know that the gas was supposed to be mixed with oil.”
“I know, dear but still, it’s broken and this is the only one we have and you’re going to have to learn how to use it.”
I have been developing a hypothesis. The whole world is against me.
“Get out there right now. I don’t care what you do, just weed eat.” She looked like she was going to pull her hair out.

Yeah…the sad thing is that some form of the same thing happens every single time I weed eat. Today, guess what? The string wouldn’t come out, so I spent about seven minutes with the monkey wrench trying to take the string out to loosen it, only to not be able to put the thing you wrap the string on back into the bottom of the weed eater, and not be able to screw the screw-thing into place because it’s like the top of a jar that gets crooked, and then I realized it wasn’t going to bounce right, so I had to take the turning-wire-track-thing out, but it was stuck. I spent another ten minutes or so trying to un-stuck the stuck, abusing the machine a couple times with my little friend the monkey wrench (I’ve come terribly close to naming it Sunshine Bob). Finally I decided that I would try to think rationally. I was going to tap the track-turning-wire-thing to perhaps loosen it up, but instead the tapping pushed it in right, I was able to get on the screwy-thingy, and I poured in gas/oil without spilling it all over the place (which I’ve done the past two times…yuck). By this time, it was nearly dark, so I only did a quick sweep of the front yard, around the air conditioner big-loud-doohickey, and the outside of our fence before I couldn’t really see if I was getting much or not. And I think that by then the wire was getting stuck again. You know, you’d think I’d have this all figured out after some two and a half years. No. I can’t wait till Robert can do it, and then I’ll also be very over-thankful to my husband whenever he weed eats. I’ll cook a great big standing rib roast with garlic mashed potatoes, steamed asparagus, honey wheat rolls, and a great big salad. Then I’ll give him a nice massage and we’ll go watch a shoot ‘em up movie or whatever HE wants to watch. However, if we only have four square feet of yard to our name, there will be only ham sandwiches and chick flicks, because I would really like a little more land than that…..of course, whatever we can afford……and that’s far in the future. But aren’t you hungry now?

I never want to be a…

-Weed eater technology assistance person
-Weed eater repair woman
-Lawn maintenance worker
-Manufacturer of weed eaters

However, if I had the brains for it, I would love to invent a more efficient weed eater, that does what it really says it’s supposed to on the box. Or maybe I’ll invent the hover-weed-eater that just senses where things need to be edged and does it by itself while you go do fun things.

Anyways, enough ranting. I’m sleepy…and I have to get up and do the back yard…*seriously considers converting to pessimism*

WAIT!!! Very good news. Some of our new, and very good, friends joined Candler for the rest of the summer…we’re so excited!!! They came today and we jumped around a lot in the diving pool. It‘s just his first day, and one of the guys already went off the top platform (10 meters)! Then we just treaded water in the diving pool, passing around our volley ball/pretend water polo ball, trying to throw well, giving up, and then trying to hit each other in the face with it.

ANYHOO, like I said, I’ve got to go to bed now. Ta-ta!

--Jessica

Anger...

Yesterday was very cool. I mean, in most respects it was very ordinary. The special and cool part about it was…it was 18 days till my 18th birthday, which is on the 18th of August. I also celebrated when it was 18:18 o’clock (military time, you know). It was a very cool day, and it will never be that day ever again in my entire life. However, it would have been cooler if I had been born on the 8th of August, because then, ten years ago (oh-my-gosh…) today would have been 8 days till my 8th birthday on the 8th of the 8th month, at 8:08 am AND pm!!! Alas, ‘twas not so.

So Elizabeth pointed out one of the questions on the survey and how I answered it. “Who was the last person you were mad at”, or something to that effect. I answered, “EVERYBODY!!!”

But I kind of got to thinking (you see, I do that sometimes). There are lots of emotions that make us blind. I guess we are very shortsighted people. When we’re in love, we’re blind…we can’t see how this certain person could be bad, we don’t see how anyone else but that person could be good enough, and we don’t see how we ever loved anyone else, or didn’t love that certain person before. Happiness is blind, because we don’t understand how things could have ever been so bad. We know they were, but it seems like it wasn’t such a big deal or something. Anger is blind, because all we can see is the problem right in front of us, and how terrible it is. Even apathy is blind…how could you have ever allowed yourself to FEEL FEELINGS??? How STUPID could you have been? So now I just don’t feel like CARING about ANYTHING right now…well, that’s how my apathy is, and from there I go on to not allowing myself to get happy or sad or angry or do anything…and then I just crawl into bed and sleep a bit. Have you ever noticed people’s “Morning Faces”? I think I really first discovered this while camping. Everyone has this face they wake up with in the morning. It’s all groggy-wrinkly-stuck, if that makes any sense. It feels that way, too. And coffee magically makes it fade away! I wonder at these things…what a phenomenon we have right in front of us.

The reason I said “everybody” was kind of an elbow in the side to human nature, I suppose. When one is angry, one tends to blame everyone else but oneself. It starts when we’re little. I guess some people are less selfish than others, just as some people are more school smart than others, or some girls are more prissy than others. I do try to be a nice person, and I try to be responsible and notice that it’s my fault if something terrible has happened to me. Sometimes it’s really not, of course. But it’s just like the guy whose truck my aunt accidentally ran into the back of – it was my aunt’s fault, but he was so incredibly nice and forgiving, even offering for her to drive his pickup (which hadn’t really been hurt by her little Reatta) while she got her car fixed or acquired a new one. I want to be like that.

Where was I? Oh, yes. Pietro Aretino says in a letter to Girolamo Quirini, “Angry men are blind and foolish, for reason at such a time takes flight and, in her absence, wrath plunders all the riches of the intellect, while the judgment remains the prisoner of its own pride (translation by Samuel Putnam).” Yeah…16th century Spanish/Italian stuff or something, but you know what I mean, I think. Though I like this next one better: “I know of no more disagreeable situation than to be left feeling generally angry without anybody in particular to be angry at.” -- Frank Moore Colby.

I don’t remember or maybe I don’t even know what I was really going to say. I think I had one of those “MLA research paper”-type-blog-entries mapped out in some corner of my brain, but now it’s stuck there (I must have been staring longingly at all the bubble gum at the store too long), and I cannot bring it forward into my “line of thinking”, if you know what I mean. If you all have anything to add about whatever I’ve been trying to formulate, feel free to!

--Jessica