Goddess of Discord

Dark Secrets

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 02:22:00 +0000

I collect dark secrets.

Not my own of course. That would be weird, I mean, how many dark secrets can one person have? When that person is me, not very many. What I'm talking about ties into this post that I wrote over two years ago. Apparently, in addition to asking me for advice about various subjects, people also like to tell me their dark secrets.

I know so much about people it's scary. I fear for my life. One of these days someone is going to do something really bad and then tell me and then they are going to change their mind about wanting me to know it. And then I'll have to make a break for it. Because even though I've taken self-defense classes twice, I know that I would lose in a fight against most people. Especially if they are someone I care about in any way. I would tell you where I plan on escaping to, but then I'd have to come up with a whole new plan because you'll know exactly where to look for me.

I have a talent for attracting confessions of past misdeeds. Or just plain regular lesser known details of people's lives. In fact, telling people that I have this bizarre gift seems to inspire more dark confessions. I don't know what to do. I should write a book. "Eris Tells All: a collection of unknown facts of the people around me" by Eris, Goddess of Discord. I could make millions! bwahahaha!

Ok, so probably not. Sorry, but even if I had the time and the guts to put together such a book, I don't think people would really be interested in buying it. Someone spilling someone else's secrets just brings to mind the tabloids at the check-out counter. Most of it could be denied. I have no proof about most of these things. Nothing would hold up in court. It's much more entertaining when someone decides to spill all about their own hidden lives. And in all honesty, there's not much I could write about on that.

How would that even go?

I ate those Hershey bars that you put in the freezer mom. Years ago. Matt helped me. Sorry Matt, but I'm not going down alone on this one.

Goodbyes

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Tue, 05 May 2009 06:12:00 +0000

It's been an interesting last 8 months. It's unusual of me to become such good friends with someone in such a short amount of time. It's weirder still that I'm that good of friends with a guy. And frankly it sucks to watch him leave.

I went to his open house last night. First person there, last one to leave. Provided about a third of the food for it, and helped prepare the house beforehand and clean up afterward. I'm not really ready to have him leave. Not prepared to not wake up to his phone calls, or practically fall asleep talking to him. There is more I want to learn about cars before he goes. More I want to laugh about. More movies I want to quote with him.

A goodbye is not complete without a hug. I was surprised, and felt very special that he invited me to be there when they set him apart as a missionary. I went knowing that I wouldn't be able to give him a hug when I left his house, and knowing it would be the last time I saw him for two years. It was a bit prolonged. I expected to leave shortly afterward, knowing that lingering would make it harder, but his family invited me to stay for dinner.

I said goodbye and shook his hand. See you in two years. I said goodbye to his family, and he followed me outside saying he needed to tell me something.

"Thanks for being my best friend."

Blind

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 23:23:00 +0000

Eyesight is overrated. I've occasionally had the thought that if I had to choose between losing my hearing and my eyesight I would rather lose my eyesight. This stems from the fact that I would probably die if I couldn't listen to music. The very thought sends shivers down my spine.

After this crossed my mind I thought for a moment that being blind would prevent me from enjoying another pastime, reading. But even as this thought crossed my mind, I remembered books on tape, and even the possibility of learning how to read in braille. Which, you have to admit would be awesome to be able to do. Half of the enjoyment of a book comes from the way it smells anyway.

I don't think I would trade the taste of chocolate for the ability to see either. I mean really, the idea is preposterous. And touch? well I wouldn't give that one up either. I mean, I can even pretty well find my way through familiar spaces without seeing, so even as a means of navigation it is somewhat expendable.

When it comes right down to it, if I had to give up one of the five senses, I would give up eyesight . . .

Except for one thing.

I would trade sound, smell, taste, and touch just to look into your eyes.

Poems

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 01:59:00 +0000

Here are some poems I wrote for my poetry class. Enjoy and please leave me comments! All comments are welcome!

Being Serious

It’s hard to talk when I hear these things from
you. My throat gets too tight to breathe, and I
can’t think of the words that will make you come
back to me again. I don’t want to cry
in front of you, but I can’t stop the tears
that are already tracing down my cheek.
I can see that it hurts, those crazy fears
that you aren’t strong enough. When you speak
of knowing what it is I want; a guy
to hug and whisper in my ear, someone
I can trust, I want to know why
that can’t be you. You want to be the one.
So hold me close and keep me safe. I know
you and I want the same thing. Please don’t go.

Passive

faces become painted masks
and eyes are broken window glass
words bubble up
trapped behind immovable lips
leaving words to dissolve
unspoken, unexplained
leaving unshed tears
to trace new drops of paint
alone in silence

Amputee

Like shadowed, phantom limbs
I feel you there.
Still there, still there
But when I look there remains only a void.

I can’t get up from this wheelchair
You’ve left me in.
You’re gone, you’re gone,
A missing piece of who I’m supposed to be.

This hand, this foot, arm, leg,
Leaving me a soul-lost cripple,
No heart, no heart,
And yet, I feel it beating.

No hope now, but prosthetic parts,
A shattered breathless shadow
Of me, of you,
The pain exquisite in its sweet torture.

What Really Matters

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 22:48:00 +0000

This is part of Jen's Self-Esteem Carnival. Check it out.

The past year has been a crazy mess. I came home from school in January not really knowing what I would do. I worked for a while as a temp hating it the whole way, forced myself to go to church with people I believed I had no interest in knowing, and felt like a huge loser the whole time because the situation was entirely my fault.

What is it about people that makes it so much easier for us to see the amazingness in other people but not in ourselves? I look at each of my friends and I can give a list of reasons I like being around them for each and everyone of them, but when I think about myself I always shake my head and wonder, "why do they like hanging out with me?" It always boggled my mind.

With the media pushing all the physical expectations of women, we are to be gorgeous, skinny, with perfect hair, and clear skin, it's no wonder I see people falling into the trap of believing that they are only worth what their bodies can get them. I find myself talking to some of my girl friends, telling them that they deserve better that some guy that's just after some action, they deserve to be loved for who they really are. I've never believed myself to be the drop-dead gorgeous person that society expects all women to be, but I don't need to believe that to feel good about myself.

Over the last year I've found some things about myself that I hope I will remember for the rest of my life. I don't need a boy to be happy. I don't have to hate my job, I just had to find something that I enjoy doing. I can survive without one of my best friends being close by. People telling me I'm beautiful has never made me feel better about myself, but someone telling me I have "an awesome personality" does. Ditto for hearing that I have the biggest smile they've ever seen, and for people asking me if I'm ever afraid my "funny will break" because I laugh so much.

I think I used to be a crazy outgoing person, and I don't really know where this quiet person I've seen lately came from. I remember those share-something-about-your-neighbor games in Sunday School, and I remember people saying I was the person always smiling, or laughing or whatever. I think I lost that person for a while. But guess what? I think she's back.

After all, what really matters isn't what other people see when they look at us, it's what we see when we look inside ourselves. I'm happy because I've finally been able to start seeing in myself what other people have been seeing all along. And I am AWESOME.

I'm it!

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 06:51:00 +0000

My sis-in-law tagged me here, and I figured I should probably do it because I don't get tagged very often (because I'm a slacker of a blogger). So here goes.

8 things I'm passionate about:
1. My friends -- basically a huge priority in my life. I don't think a day goes by without me talking to at least 3 of my friends.
2. Music -- I have enough music I could listen to it for at least a week without repeating any songs.
3. Reading -- After I started my job I rediscovered the library. I constantly have several books checked out and at least 3 on hold at any given time.
4. Movies
5. Scotland -- I will go there. I love, love, love Scotland.
6. Rain -- I stood outside in the rain today. Best feeling ever.
7. Pool -- lately I just wanna play all the time.
8. Dancing -- this kind of just goes hand in hand with music.

8 words or phrases I say often:
1. Freakin' A! (yes, exactly like that)
2. What the ?! (when startled)
3. You are my hero (said anytime anyone does some cool/silly or when they do something that just makes me happy)
4. Your face
5. Congratufreakin'lations
6. Boys are stupid! (to which Nate always replies "yeah they are!")
7. No really, who says that??
8. It tickles my fancy (OK, only recently, and this one kind of bugs me 'cause it just sounds so odd).

8 things I want to accomplish in the coming year:
1. Finish pharmacy tech program
2. Move out
3.Have a rockin' time with Kim.
4. Take at least one photography class.
5. Decide what I want to major in.
6. Save lots of money.
7. Actually take one of my brilliant ideas and make a music video already.
8. Cure cancer, lol, no really that would be awesome.

8 places I would love to go or visit:
1. Scotland (!!!!!)
2. England
3. Germany
4. The Louvre
5. New York
6. New Zealand "I WILL go to New Zealand and I walk the Mordor trail."
7. Mexico
8. The Moon

8 things I need or want: (I only get 8???)
1. My brakes need to be checked.
2. The entire cast to Phantom of the Opera, then I can just watch the play whenever. People will come to hang out and I'll be like "you guys wanna watch Phantom? sweet, I'll go make sure they are ready."
3. A wolf.
4. An all expense paid life in Scotland.
5. More hours at work.
6. Better sound system in my car.
7. I need to know how to break dance.
8. More sleep.

I tag Mauri, Carly, and Charlotte. You know who you are. You read this and you'd better . . .

Boy Problems

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 18:27:00 +0000

I thought I would shed a little light on my previous post. I believe I have the market cornered on boy related awkwardness lately. Every story starts I tell lately starts out:

So there's this guy . . .

I've known him for a couple years now, and I've generally held the opinion that he is one strange cookie. Granted he has some legitimate issues he has to deal with that contribute to that but I don't think that excuses some of the odd misconceptions he has. I made the mistake of chatting on Facebook with him one day and somehow found myself agreeing to go see a movie with him. It was fun, the movie was good, and whatnot, but I'm still so far from being interested it's crazy. The main problem for me is that I'm a very private person for the most part. Granted I have no qualms with sharing facts and stories about myself, but when it comes to what I think about stuff or my reasons for doing things I'd rather people just not know. This guy is so far on the other end of the spectrum. It worries me when people share that much about themselves on such a casual encounter. Partly because it freaks me out that they will expect the same level of openness from me (and they aren't gonna get it) and partly because I worry that they'll think I actually have been that open with them and they'll think they actually know something about me ( which generally they don't).

Anyway, after that one casual date I realized that I probably should never have agreed to it. I found myself being called and invited to go to various activities with him. Even after completely avoiding him when we happen to be at the same place at the same time.

Yesterday, I was again on Facebook, and he started chatting with me. Here is what followed (with mental commentary in italics on the side):

Boy: Hey
nice lady what the weird??
how are you?
Me: Good
Boy: Would you hate me if I moved to Seattle? no, oh my gosh I would love you to move to Seattle
Me: No, Seattle is awesome!
If you want to go you should go
Boy: But you would miss the ham and eggs out of me wouldn't you? no, but what the heck . . .
Me: what does that even mean?

Basically, I have no idea where he's gotten the impression that I would "miss the ham and eggs out of him," but it's all very strange. I don't know if he's confused and thinks that my general avoidance of him is me playing hard-to-get, but it's not. I'm playing a completely different game. One I like to call don't-catch-me.

This has kind of has me thinking that I really hate the dating game. At least I hate the initial stages. I don't know what's wrong with two people hanging out and having fun just being together. I figure that eventually it will become clear that one or both parties are interested in it becoming something more (or neither will and you'll just continue being friends). If both parties are interested well then "hurray!" if only one is interested, hopefully you'll be good enough friends that you'll be able to work through it in a rational manner without hating each other in the end.

Quote of the Day

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 07:19:00 +0000

"I think your boy problems and my girl problems should get together and make some baby problems."

Ain't that the truth?

Chocolate Covered Tomatoes

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 05:30:00 +0000

I went to the doctor this week. It's the first time in ages that I have a primary care physician. Am I a slacker or what? Granted, I've only had the inclination to go to the doctor about twice in the last year, but still.

He doesn't think Fred is what I've always thought it was. This is shocking. For three years I've thought I knew what was going on, and it turns out the odds of that being true are incredibly slim. Case in point is that almost every case of duidinitis is caused be the H. pylori bacteria. Which I seem to lack (this is good??). At any rate, my doctor told me I can't eat chocolate or tomatoes for a month.

And I was beginning to think he was a nice guy!

Initially, I was sadder about the chocolate, because seriously? I am a chocoholic. But it's the no tomatoes thing that is making me most sad. I've even dreamed about eating tomatoes the last couple nights. :( You can kind of see exactly how I feel here right when the time counter reads 3:03. (Brian Regan is great, he's absolutely hilarious and his humor is really clean.

Sad face.

Overdue

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 06:25:00 +0000

So yeah. I need to write on here way more often. The thing is stuff happens that would be good to write about but I don't ever feel like I have time to get on here and record it.

So here goes:

I started working at Target a couple months ago. I needed a job super bad, so I got stuck working the super early morning shift. For a night owl, 4am is a really terrible time to have to be coherent. The work itself wasn't so bad though, just stocking shelves and my supervisor was cool. But my trainer? Pretty much evil.

I'm not joking. The worst part was that she was deceptively nice when I first started. I also had to deal with the return of Fred (I don't think I've mentioned this on here, so quick update. Fred is my "ulcer." Really he is just an inflammation, but he sucks so much I can't even tell you. He's even more evil in the morning so he got along with work just dandily). His most recent attack resulted in my leaving work early a couple days and a visit to the doctor to destroy him once and for all. After getting back to work though, it was like this crazy transformation had occurred and my trainer had become this scary woman! The expectation was that once you'd been there for a week you had better be pro, or else. I celebrated every time I was in a different section of the store.

After about a month of this my availability changed because of the start of my Pharmacy Tech program, and I'm now working as a cashier. More on this later.

I've been in my pharm tech program for 4 weeks now, only 11 to go. Everything is going so perfectly as far as this is concerned it's just awesome. I've got my license to be a tech in Oregon, so Target is switching me over to the pharmacy pretty soon. Hurray! I'm going to be the only person in my program that is getting paid for my cooperative work experience.

My only complaints about my program are my math class and that one person that everyone always has in every class that has to talk and ask questions incessantly. My math class sucks because I've been through calculus. I don't want to sit in a two hour class to "learn" about proportions and unit multipliers. Give me a line to rotate around an axis or something! Please!

Then there's this person. Now most people don't have to deal with the SAME person in every class, so they are just minorly annoyed with each individual inquisitive idiot. But here the natives are getting restless. There are 24 people in my program and we go through classes as a cohort. We are slowly beginning to loathe every moment this person is talking. I feel kind of bad for her, but she is seriously so annoying. Can't she just save her random non-related questions for after the class?

I really, really like my job. As a cashier I have to deal with all the stupid people. But the majority aren't that bad. The people I can't stand are the ones that do something stupid and then think I'm the idiot for not being able to fix their mistake. I'm sorry, but if you pay with your credit card first there is nothing I can do about you not being able to use your gift card. I can't undo your credit card transaction, so don't look at me like I'm a moron when I send you to guest services. The other people that bug me are the ones that stand there while I bag their purchases and then decided that they don't need a bag and then unbag the stuff and leave the bags. Thanks. I will now throw these away because reusing them is a bigger pain than it's worth. It especially bugs me if you say something about trees or resources while you do this. Take it home and recycle it, or tell me not to bag it in the first place. I can't read minds. Then there are the people that act all offended if I don't have the store memorized. I'm a cashier. Yes, I've been in stocking too, but you don't know that. I can tell you if we carry a baby food flavor, or a certain brand of diapers, but considering that's where I spent most of my time stocking, I can't tell you much else. There are people on the floor to answer these questions.

I've rediscovered the library. I've got a hold list about 20 books long and I've got about a dozen checked out. It makes me feel like a nerd, but it gives me something to talk about when I'm reading a different book every day in class. The bad thing is that when these are all read there's about a million more I want to read. Me in a library or a bookstore is worse than a kid in a candy shop.

This added to my new church responsibilities as education counselor pretty much sums my life up. All in all, it's going pretty well.

Deepest Discoveries Out of Darkest Moments

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Thu, 22 May 2008 05:22:00 +0000

I've come to the realization that the times I am at my most wretched, my most depressed, are the times when I find out a little more about myself, believe a little more in my potential, and push to do better.

The days I spend crying softly to myself become the days of great personal, spiritual discovery. Each little pinpoint of light, each star in the dark of loneliness and depression becomes starkly apparent. And I come away with a newer, fresher perspective on the person I am and the person I want to become.

Every time I sink into some doubt of my potential, or my awesomeness, I am surrounded by reassurances through family and friends and an amazing unfathomable love from my Heavenly Father.

I really don't know what to say, other than yesterday was one of the most emotionally awful days of my life, but it ended as one of the most spiritually strengthening.

911 . . . it seems easy, but when it comes right down to it?

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 06:21:00 +0000

Today I was driving to church with my brother. We're just driving along and suddenly this lady on the sidewalk collapsed right as we drove past. We were both just kind of stunned. What do we do? Should we stop? Call 911? Pray?

We ascertained that someone else had stopped, so leaving our minds at ease. Except for one thing: How do you actually make a 911 call? I'd never done it, he'd never done it, we really had just no clue. The problem in my mind wasn't the calling for help itself, but more just describing the location as would have to be done since we would be calling from a cell phone.

It's something I thought about all through church. If I had had to make that call, would it have turned into this big jumbled mess? Would they have understood what I was saying? Would they have come to the right place?

I just wish I knew what happened to the woman, and if she was ok.

Selling Yourself For Science

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 21:31:00 +0000

Use this little calculator to find out how much your body is worth as a cadaver.

$5000.00

Masterpiece

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Tue, 04 Mar 2008 06:39:00 +0000

as
rain
shivers
in the air
taps windows
plip-plop tapping
percussion and drums
with wind accompaniment
and trees play all the strings
a symphony of nature-sound
the storm its concert master
a frog pond sings the chorus
welcoming the water-life
gently fading out

Here Kitty, Kitty

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 09:22:00 +0000

It was Saturday. There was a gun show, and a cat show (house cat's, not tigers like Nathan thought) at the fair.

At the gun show it occurred to me that if we were living in a TV show someone would have been killed there. And some detective like Adrian Monk, or Shawn Spencer would have shown up to figure it out.

Afterwards at the cat show, the whole thing became even funnier. The murder would happen at the cat show. And of course it would have something to do with the gun show.

I don't know all the details.

Also, mom and I managed to find jewelry, books, purses, and pink guns at the gun show. The most interesting things were the knives, in my opinion.

I'm pretty sure we were driving dad and Nathan crazy with all our, "oh, that one's pretty!"

Blog Potpourri

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 08:41:00 +0000

Here's a bunch of random stuff.

I've read several books in the past two months. I've always been a library addict, and now more than ever. I recently read Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See, which was beautiful and sad. It's set in 19th century China, and talks a lot about foot binding, which totally weirds me out. Then I got to thinking, there is all this stuff about how it made their legs look longer because the idea was that the foot would look like more of an extension of the leg. It started as a status symbol, for men and women; the women could afford to have servants, and the men could afford to have a wife that couldn't really do anything. It also made them walk with very short steps. Interestingly enough, this makes me think of high heels. Granted I made a comment a while back on this blog about liking high heels. But what do they do but make us look like we have smaller feet and longer legs? Interesting how you have to learn how to walk in heels, because you'll kill yourself if you try to walk normally. Short, quick steps. I still like heels, but it's something that really made me think. I was ranting for days about how horrible the idea of binding feet is, while our society does similar, if not as permanently damaging, things to women.

I also read Blink by Malcolm Gladwell. It discusses the role our subconscious plays in decisions. And how you can know things without knowing how you know them.

And now I'm reading Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. I can't believe I haven't read this until now. Nearly all my friends have read it. It's a very popular book. It's right up my alley, scifi/fantasy awesomeness. It kind of hurts my head in that the main character is 9 (at the point I'm at in the book) and he thinks more like an adult than I do. He thought more like an adult when he was 6 as well. Maybe I'm not the best person to judge against. The amazing thing is that the way everything is set up it's still almost believable.

Nathan straightened his hair for the last church dance. Or rather, I straightened his hair. His hair is longer than parts of mine. It's kind of crazy. He went to the dance and got some remarkably stupid comments and questions. Such as, "how did you do that?" Um, a straightener? C'mon, no one would ask a girl that. For most hair (on a guy or girl) there are only a few ways to do that. A more pertinent question would be, " how long did that take?" I curled my normally stick straight hair, and that's basically the question I got.

I'm torn. I have a double bed. It's nice, and big and roomy. I miss my twin bed. Twin beds are great. When it's cold your whole bed is warm, as opposed to the cold patches that develop in larger beds. When it's hot you can hang you arms and legs off the bed to cool off. I'm so used to a twin bed right now that I don't even utilize all the space I have. When your bed is propped up on cinder blocks you get used to changing sleep positions without falling off the bed, so the fact that you've only got 4 ft or so doesn't even matter. If I had a twin bed right now I would have tons of space in my room.

I've got a job. I'm working at the same place I always end up working. I start Monday. I have an interview for a different job in a couple weeks. I hope I get it because it is less hours a week and I need to be able to take some classes at the college here.

I hate drug tests. Not only are they so completely pointless for me, they are so freaking annoying! I can't go on demand. I have a shy bladder. I finally got through the drug test. Passed it (of course), and left and then I immediately had to go really bad.

I also am completely weirded out by the TB skin test. They inject this stuff under your skin, so there is this dime sized bump, and then your body gradually absorbs it. I hope that's a good sign.

I am in love with the USA series Psych. I don't really know what I like so much about it. It's random and funny, though. And kind of mysterious, but not dark and depressing. I've also really enjoyed messing around on the show's website.

Because of my current Psych addiction I also stumbled across Super Chicken! Awesome, awesome, awesome. Cartoons used to be so much better.

When you find youself in danger,
When you're threatened by a stranger,
When it looks like you will take a lickin', (puk, puk, puk)
There is someone waiting,
Who will hurry up and rescue you,
Just Call for Super Chicken! (puk, ack!)

Fred, if you're afraid you'll have to overlook it,
Besides you knew the job was dangerous when you took it (puk, ack!)

He will drink his super sauce
And throw the bad guys for a loss
And he will bring them in alive and kickin' (puk, puk, puk)
There is one thing you should learn
When there is no one else to turn to
Call for Super Chicken! (puk, puk, puk)
Call for Super Chicken! (puk, ack!)

Also, I am hooked on The Beatles.

Mind Meld

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 07:23:00 +0000

Somewhere between my dad waking me up at six and actually getting up I had a dream.

I was trapped on one side of a river and my only escape from a very strange world was on the other side. I also stumbled into something that I shouldn't have and somehow ended up with a small symbol etched on my arm. As I was trying to find my way over the river, which was not only deep itself, but had very steep sides, I came across a shape shifting guy that knew how to remove the symbol from my arm. It involve a strange creature the size and shape of a large marble that rolled itself across my skin and then returned to the shape shifter and placed the symbol on his arm instead. He was covered in all sorts of these strange markings.

Somehow I came to the conclusion that the only way to get across the river was by becoming covered in these symbols. I was immediately attacked by the marble things and was coated in small blue etchings. Then I flew to the other side of the river.

Oddly enough, once on the other side of the river I met Spock (I'm a nerd ok?) who informed me that I couldn't leave this place with these markings on me. He then proceeded to do the Vulcan Mind Meld on me (yeah I wasn't too enthused about that), at which point I lost consciousness (yes, while dreaming).

When I came to the symbols were all along the river bank etched into stones and I was surrounded by many Star Trek characters, and other characters from sci-fi fame. Spock told me that I had defiled their sacred river and I would have to atone for my crimes! I had the choice between being stabbed to death or to not speak until the next full moon. If I spoke I would immediately die. For some reason this all made sense and I agreed to it. (Now everyone knows that although I think Spock is awesome, I am afraid of him murdering me for some unknown reason, that is still somehow logical).

I woke up because my mom wanted me to come make waffles for breakfast. I was still in the middle of the discussion about me dying when I woke up, so I was still somehow convinced that I would die if I said anything. It took me until I was dressed and had my contacts in to I realize that it wasn't all real and I could talk if I wanted.

The full moon aspect makes sense, as does Spock (somewhat) and shape shifters. What I don't understand is how my not speaking meant anything.

Swimmers and Chests

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 07:13:00 +0000

So today my little brother was getting ready for his swim team's district meet. This involved shaving his legs. Remembering some of the injuries he sustained from this last year, I offered him advice and a fresh razor.

When he was done, I found out that he had also shaved his arms. Ok it gets weirder.

Later today as I was chatting with a friend online, he walks into my room with his shirt pulled up, rubbing his stomach. After a few awkward moments I asked, "did you shave your stomach?"

To which he replied, "not very well!"

This is all very odd considering that my little brother has so much hair on the top of his head and he practically refuses to cut it, but he'll shave most of his body for a swim meet? He points out that he will be wearing a swim cap for this meet. This isn't the weirdest incidence surround swimmers and their dedication to their sport.

At school there are a couple of guys that play water polo. They used to swim for regular meets and stuff at their high school. One of them related a story about one day in school where his teacher sent him to the principal's office because she was afraid he was worshiping Satan. As it happened the guys on his school swim team had the tradition of buzzing their initials into their hair the week before districts or state. This guy's name is Scott, so he was going around with a big S on his head. Granted, Scott self-proclaimedly does not have a soul, so perhaps his teacher wasn't too far off.

My friend Carly would argue that we should put up with the oddities surrounding swimmers because "they have nice chests." Carly notices chests. I've known Carly for long enough, that whenever I see a guy with his shirt of I almost always think of her, usually my thoughts go somewhere along the lines of "that guy was hot . . . Carly would have liked that." Yeah, disturbing and possibly problematic later on.

Carly is also a huge tennis fan. Watching tennis with her is tons of fun. You get a nice running commentary on everybody's form. Tennis form and otherwise. :P

Thank you swimmers and Carly, for making my life a little more interesting.

Giant Killer Tumbleweed

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 06:59:00 +0000

I left for home yesterday morning. My dad and I left my brother's house around ten in the morning, expecting (or hoping) to get home around midnight. The stretch between Salt Lake City and Ontario, OR went smoothly, and we made excellent time with few mishaps or problems.

Unless you count the twenty or so deer carcasses we saw within a five mile stretch of road. Which really only makes you wonder if there are any deer left to hit, so not really a big worry.

As we got near LaGrande, OR we ran into a few icy patches on the road, which I dealt with calmly (due to the fact that I've only experienced driving on icy roads a few times and don't really know what I'm up against). The mountain passes went slower and we began loosing the time we had gained changing time zones. On the final downhill stretch before Pendleton and dry roads we got stuck in traffic that was backed up for 6 miles due to a couple of semis getting into a wreck at the bottom of the mountain. Shortly after we had stopped we were nearly rear ended by one of the crazies that didn't stop to consider how snow packed roads would affect his stopping time. Luckily we were able to pull up quite a bit and they were able to turn quite a bit otherwise the two hour delay would have been a little more exciting.

Yes that's right, two hours we were stuck on that mountain, and it took about an hour and a half to get off the mountains and to dry roads. At this point it was 10 o'clock and four hours from home.

I drove for a couple of hours and was attacked by giant tumbleweed. There was one as big as me! Or maybe it was two tumbleweeds that were hooked together. It was weird how it disintegrated as soon as I hit it.

We also had the adventure of stopping at a rest area to sleep for a few hours before making a break for home. We were easily the only passenger vehicle stopped there for more than a bathroom break.

All in all, we didn't get home until 5 am Pacific Time. I'm sleepy just thinking about it.

The Hair Affair

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Sat, 05 Jan 2008 09:00:00 +0000

A week or so before Halloween I had the brilliant idea to be Alice Cullen (from Stephenie Meyer's Twilight) for Halloween. This involved getting my recently decided to grow out hair cut, and coloring it black. This was kind of cool in my mind, on many levels. Firstly, I have often jokingly said I was going to color my hair black. Secondly, the costume itself was very subtle and I doubt that many people would notice my amazing fangs if it weren't for the black hair being such a tie-in to my character.

I had initially thought to get a temporary color, but I have a friend that did that and instead of just washing out it turned her hair purple (Anne of Green Gables anyone?) and I didn't really think that purple would be a good idea. Then the idea was that since my hair grows fast I would just color it, and then let it grow out. So I colored my hair, which was rather uneventful in and of itself, but then liked it enough (and got enough positive feedback) that I decided to recolor my roots when they had grown to the point that I couldn't ignore them anymore. That said, I have never noticed how fast my hair grows until I did this. So when school got out for Christmas I went home as a black-haired red-head. Needless to say, my parents and my grandma weren't very enthused about it and as it is only hair and not a lifestyle decision, or a pressing need to have black hair, I eventually gave in to my mom's pressuring to change it.

We juggled around some various options. Ranging from getting it stripped, to getting a weave, to doing something to it ourselves and eventually settled with the latter. Being the ever observant mother that she is, my mom suggested that we try a product she had seen called Color Oops, or something of that sort. We did that and my hair became an odd sort of weird orange-y brown mixed with black and my natural reddish roots. So we went to Walgreen's (on a very icy day, in which I did some parking lot acrobatics ending on my hands and knees), and got some more and did it again. This time it ended with a reddish something that didn't really look all that bad except for the stubborn black that remained on the top of my head. We then intended to color it a cinnamon brown and leave it at that, perhaps getting a weave later on. It turned a nearly black brown, except for the top of my head which remained black.

So we went to the beauty college. They wouldn't touch it, convinced that with all the stuff I'd done to it so recently it would melt or fall out. Great. Giving up and moving on and resolving never to color my hair black again (unless a large sum of money was involved), I went home.

Then today my mom was telling her hair stylist about the whole fiasco, and she wanted me to come in. So I went in and we discussed several options. She bleached my hair to a lovely chestnut brown.

So over the course of the week my hair has been stripped, dyed, bleached, and washed about thirty times. It's cleaner than it's ever been. The odd thing is that through all this my hair hasn't decided it's had enough and fallen out.

How many colors can my hair be in a week?

Summer

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Fri, 04 Jan 2008 08:05:00 +0000

Gentle breezes.
No strings, no ties,
Only beaches and carnivals.
Drifting in an aimless canoe,
Tip of a fishing rod.
Green shoots of Spring
Darken slowly into amber.
Sun glowing cheeks and rainbows;
Clouds never gray the sky.
Smiles and laughter,
Mere echoes of the past,
And visions lull the dreamers
Back to sleep.
Here in Winter's cold embrace,
Though Autumn still and silent,
A sweet recollection smooths a face
And the last kiss of Summer lingers.

New Year

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 08:18:00 +0000

So it's a new year. A whole year has come and gone. I see a lot of people making New Year's Resolutions and posting them on their blogs, and it kind of makes me feel like I should too, but I feel kind of dumb. There are so many things I would like to do, or that I would like to do differently, but I'm one of those people that has a hard time if I make a huge list. It makes me feel overwhelmed, and then none of it happens. (I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but is anyone ever just whelmed?*)

But then again, I also know that writing things down makes them more likely to happen, and that having it visible to others has the added benefit of people knowing what you are supposed to be doing so they can hold it over your head. So here's a few things I would like to accomplish this year:

1. I resolve to have an opinion. So many times I feel like my response when asked if I prefer one thing or the other is "I don't care" or "whichever." I feel so often like I say that more to eliminate the analytic process that then has to take place in my head, about which option I really prefer. Even after this process when I can clearly define that there is one option that is better than another I then have the tendency to feel that if I take the "better" option I am then ripping someone off. Silly, because more often than not the other person involved either doesn't have a preference or is giving me the courtesy to express my opinion in the matter. So I resolved to have an opinion (and share it).

2. I resolve to not be a pushover. This kind of goes along with the first one. I'm not going to let my feelings and wishes always be pushed aside. Not that this ever really happens, mostly because I don't usually express what I feel about various matters.

3. This is one that I've been trying to be better at all along, but now it's going to happen. I'm going to keep curfew better. And enforce it better. 'Nuff said.

4. I hesitate to add another one because I know that I'll have to add a fifth (odd number thing). I'm going to talk to people more. Like people I don't know very well. I'm going to go up to people and say hi, and ask how things are going. I'm not going to pretend that I didn't notice people and hope that they don't notice me. It's dumb, what's the worst that's going to happen from saying hi to someone?

5. I'm going to get organized. *cringe* Yeah, I know it sounds terrible. But I need to. Badly. This is the last one because I know it's going to be the hardest (which is saying a lot for an anti-social{not really}, easy-going, conflict-avoiding, night-owl). But I have it written down where the world can see it, and now I'll have to try to follow through, because everyone knows I'm supposed to.

So that's my New Year's Resolutions a few days late.

Max wants everyone to know that his New Year's Resolutions are to eat everything in sight, stay dry, and kick me out of his room.

*I think you can in Europe. :P Actually, whelmed means the same thing as overwhelmed, which seems like a waste of letters to always be saying overwhelmed when whelmed would work just as well. I'm pretty sure there are other crazy words similar in that regard. This further cements my belief that the English language is terribly ridiculous. Ten points to anyone that can name the movie that I was referencing.

Intruders!

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Sat, 29 Dec 2007 09:55:00 +0000

Even though I'm at home for Christmas and New Year's and I happen to be staying in my old bedroom, I'm feeling a lot like and intruder. My cat, Max, seems to think that he is being very generous to allow me to be in HIS room.

He spends the practically the entire day lounging around on my bed. Then at night he insists on my attention being either on him or nothing. I can't spend more than a few minutes on the computer or reading a book without him getting right up in my face, purring loudly as he walks across my keyboard (very delicately, as though he knows he's being a twerp) or laying across my book. It's not enough for him that I pet him and scratch his chin and behind his ears while I do whatever (even though this makes it drastically more complicated to type and turn pages), I have to focus on just him. When I turn off the computer or close the book he immediately returns to his spot right smack in the middle of the bed.

I would also like it to be noted that cats (and small children) somehow manage to take up more space on a bed than should be physically possible. I argue the the physics of a bed are entirely different than normal physics, otherwise someone please explain.

Or perhaps the very nature of a bed (being a catalyst to enter the dream world) is by definition part of an alternate reality.

It's late. I'm tired. I'm also starting to type dyslexically.

Seeing the World from the Inverse

noreply@blogger.com (Eris) — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 08:37:00 +0000

I was in an airplane a few days ago. It was my first real opportunity to fly and sit in a window seat. It's odd to me that flight is possible. Don't get me wrong, I understand the physics of it. I know why it works, and that makes sense, but it still seems so wrong. And I even enjoy flying. But it's like one of those dreams. The ones that seem real, and you want them to be real, but you know they aren't. It's kind of like that, I suppose. There I am, and it all starts off ok. I am sitting there in a normal position safely buckled in, kind of like a car ride. And then I start moving. Suddenly, I am going faster than I have gone in any car, ever. And then I am off the ground. And it's just not right. Fun, and kind of cool, but wrong.

Eventually you are going through the clouds. If it's a really cloudy day you are looking at a backwards world. The clouds are all beneath you. A big layer of glorious pillow soft looking white. And it's all under you. If you care to you can look up. And that, my friends, is where the really sight to be seen is. Upwards, there is a color not normally known. It's this deep glorious exquisite color of blue. It's not the Crayola sky blue. Crayon sky blue is a cheap washed out imitation in comparison. It's this wonderful blue of the deepest ocean, or a perfect sapphire. You can almost see stars peeping through, it's that dark of a blue. And for about an hour, I wondered why green was my favorite color. Because if I could be continually surrounded in that wonderful azure blanket I think I would be happy forever.

I don't understand what bothers some people about flying. Aside from the outright wrongness of it all. I don't know why some people have trouble sleeping on the plane. To me the sound of the engines is kind of comforting. It's this soothing continuous purr that drowns out everything else. There you are floating in a pure blanket of cerulean. You are separated from the world below by a downy soft looking ocean of cloud. You might as well be one of the last people left. For all you know you are.

But then, for about fifteen minutes during the descent into Portland, you are drowning in a sea of grey and white. Everywhere you look there is only cloud, and you can't help but think that the pilot is going to crash you into a mountainside. But then, right before you are sure you will never see anything again, and you have begun to suspect you have gone blind, you break through the clouds that hang over Oregon in the winter. And you remember why green is your favorite color. Because suddenly you are awash in a jungle of it. Shade after shade pops out at you. As wonderful as the infinite and eternal expanse of gorgeous sapphire was, the forest of chartreuse and emerald is even more breath-taking. While the sky high above the clouds and the world was the perfect blue, the color that the hero's eyes always are in romantic stories, the variety, the limitless selection of shades, outweighs it.

Green is comforting, it's alive, it's breathing. And while the blue of that sky will make you feel like you are the only person within the atmosphere, the green of the trees and the grass and the rivers will remind you that you aren't. It wraps you up, and carries you home.