Heat

My nose is burned. My neck is burned. My toes are burned. From what, you may ask? Ah, my dear readers, from the brilliant Californian sun, of course!! Because yes, that is where I am right now, hiding in my hotel room, alone with a crappy internet connection as the rest of my family is partying it up in Disneyland. Why am I here, you may ask. Ask away, I shan't tell. Heehee. Let us sum it up to sickness, a desire to be alone, and realizing that one can be in a bad mood when they wake up at 3:30, and that it's ok to just put yourself in time out when that happens. Ok, so I told.
Ah, glorious music! How I have missed you so. My parents don't like you so much, so I have to keep you hidden, but now you are here, gloriously free and unhindered. Britney, sing your heart out. Flo Rida, you just go low, low, low. Chamillionaire, you can get caught ridin' dirty, and you know what? I'll never tell.
So lately, I've been playing a game called King's Quest. Sadly, I'm cheap, so I just downloaded it illegally off of the internet, so it's a crappy remake of whatever the original game is, and whenever I'm stuck, (which is often), and I look for hints or walkthroughs, my game sounds oh so very different from what they describe in their oh so lovely and carefully crafted pages of cheat.
But enough about that. Disneyland really is a sight to behold. The picture of consumerism. The pinnacle of capitalism. The very essence of America. Those black Mickey Mouse ears bobbing around Anaheim are so utterly American... The fact that paying $40 for a couple burgers and a couple fries is so normal almost sickens me, but because I was raised as an obedient capitalistic child who wholeheartedly approves of the consumeristic way of life, it's ok.
And now, I'm off to play King's Quest 1. Because it's awesome.

Busses

I really do love the bus. I have not yet grown weary of the inefficient way it sucks up my time, or the way it inevitably comes early when I'm late, or comes late when I got there twenty minutes early. And only because of this simple reason: the people. They're all so incredibly different, but then, very alike. And yes, I know that's the most cliché, trite, and overused observation of all time, but really, it's true. Take, for example, the little old lady that stands alone, except for now the new addition of me at the deserted bus stop, every day. She has waited there in the rain, cold, wind and snow probably every week day for the past twenty years. Working at the hospital, in the laundry department, as I learned, I can see why she is riding the bus still, even at her age. A few brain cells are definitely missing, but goodness, she is very thoughtful. We were discussing the flaws in our judicial system today, and she noted how odd it was that when somebody commits murder, half the time they're not convicted at all, and when thye are, they usually only serve a few years. They are then released, and put back into society. But when somebody kills a bald eagle, a twenty five thousand dollar fine is slapped on, and they're stuck behind bars for a good portion of their life. As Rosa put it: "A person's worth more than a bird. Bird ain't worth nothing, it's just an animal. A person now, it's worth a lot. These here laws will have us getting in jail for hitting a possum now." I had to agree with her; our judicial system sure is lacking a good amount of common sense. But then the bus comes, and our conversation is over. I hop onto the next bus, still far from my ultimate destination. As it jolts back and forth, wheezing in front (I'm still not sure exactly what it is that wheezes, but there's something up there, let me assure you), my head bounces again the window, as I attempt a fitful sleep. A stop comes into view, and I see what looks like a couple kissing. At least, I see two heads, and they're kissing. Intrigued, now, of course I stare gawkily at them until they get on the bus. It turned out to be a mother and a baby. Of course, this wasn't as exciting as two young lovers making out on the bus, (THAT'S always funny... jk!!) but watching these two interact was unlike most other mother/baby relationships I've seen. That baby was so comfortable with his mom, it made my heart bleed with jealousy. As far as babies go, he wasn't really that cute. His face was a pasty pale white, and was kind of doughy. His wispy red hair stuck out in unseemly clumps, and he seemed chubby in all the wrong places. But he loved his mom. Every ten seconds or so, he would raise his head up from where it lay on her shoulder to carefully grab hold of her face and kiss her. Then he would smile that special toothless smile that only young babies have. Quivering with happiness, he would snuggle his head down again, shyly smiling at me, who was busy in the back grinning my face off at him. I want to be that kind of mom. The kind that her baby will interrupt his own nap to give her a kiss.

Cake

Yesterday I went to town. This town being the minutely small suburbia I live next to, of course. The morning started with being getting up ten minutes before I had to leave, with an admonishment from my mother to actually set my alarm clock, and not count on her to awaken me. After I groggily agreed with everything she said, I set off to my fast paced morning routine. Ready just in time, my ride pulled into the driveway, causing my dog to go into a maddened barking frenzy. Hair raised, and snarling, he bounded off, woofing like mad. My dad, standing in the kitchen, stood watching, and cheering him on. "Go Rex, go!!! KILL KILL KILL!!" Miming holding a gun, he pointed through the window, "You! In the car! Get down on the ground! Show me your hands!" Whooping a few siren noises out, it was the general consensus of the family that Dad had watched a few too many cops episodes.
Finally out of the house, we rode to church, me too tired to say anything but a few snide comments, because those flow always in my brain, no matter how tired or sluggish I am. Church was mostly uneventful; other than the fact that we sat next to two seven foot tall men that had difficulty seeing me, when i wanted to go past, it was rather ordinary. Afterwards, we decided we wanted gum, so we went to the Cost Cutter next door to purchase some. The gum was found rapidly, but then I decided I wanted, no needed chocolate, desperately and passionately. My ever patient companion tried to talk me out of it, saying I would ruin my appetite, (which I didn't!) and tried to forcibly drag me out of the store. But my feminine pleas won him over, (I'm sure that was it,) and we walked towards the frozen foods. At first you may think, 'Why frozen food? What kind of chocolate is over there??' Well, you would be surprised. After sadly passing by several Lean Cuisines, and Hungry Man dinners that looked absolutely scrumptious (I love eating them just as they are --no cooking or thawing or anything), I stumbled across a long time favorite: Pepperidge Farms 3 layer chocolate cake. With confetti frosting!! Oooooooohh... I drooled over it for a long time. At first I attempted reasoning with my companion as to why I should buy it; trying to justify it in some way. But then I realized, there was no justifying this, it was pure greed and gluttony that drove me to want to purchase it. Quickly coming to terms with this, I grabbed it out of the fridge/freezer it was contained in, and marched to the register to buy it. John argued that we should buy it later ("Kayla, it will melt in my car!!!" "Noooo," said I, "Cakes dont melt, silly boy....") but i once more paid no heed, and bought it. In the car now, i took my new prize out of the brown paper bag it had been wrapped in, and gloated. Unboxing it, I slid it out, and was only momentarily fazed by the fact that I had no fork. Epitomizing true gluttony in every sense of the word, I buried my face in it, and was soon overcome in a chocolate ecstasy. Chewing on the outer edge of the frosting, i discovered it did need some thawing, so after gnawing off a good quarter of the cake, I put it reverently back in the box for later. Making a few brief stops, we went to WalMart for a bit, and i begged a fork or two off of the Mcdonalds that resides inside that amazing store of everything. Back in the car, I ate a bit more, this time a little more refinedly, but forced myself to stop, as we were going to lunch from WalMart.
When we had met up with our friends, and were eating, my sandwich came. A friend looked at my food, and said, "Gosh, can you really eat all that? It's as big as your head!!" Struck a mite speechless at this, I tried to figure out if he was saying I had a big head, or if he was accusing me of eating a lot. Either way, it didn't seem to be all that flattering. Apparently, my eyes displayed my disillusionment, and he rapidly tried to dig himself out of the hole that he was now only making bigger. After about five more sentences, he just stopped and buried his face in his own burger, (which wasn't that small either, just for the record).
Eventually, it was time to go home. I hadn't finished the cake, and I was wondering how I would hide it from my sibs, but it turns out, I didn't have to worry. They had seen it while I was still in the car, so I was greeted to a locked door, with muffled shouts of I'll-unlock-the-door-if-you-give-me-cake coming from the other side. I smiled broadly, and assured the several faces squashed against the glass that that could certainly be arranged, just open-the-stupid-door-already. Immediately, it was opened, and several hands stretched out for the cake, but my older sister skills have been much refined in the past years, and I darted with a feverish speed up the stairs to my room, locking my door before I had even gotten into my room with that time saving efficiency that has kept many a sibling at bay. Quietly walking to the other side of the room, I managed to stuff the cake into my other sister's underwear drawer where I knew nobody would think to look for it. Striding back across the room with the same cat-like agility, (so they wouldn't know which part of the room I hid it in) I unlocked the door. (Well, you can't keep them out forever, you know...) They all fell in at once, a few more experiencing the fun via telephone. One of my sisters has the amazing ability to thoroughly torment me and my brothers at the same time as keeping her social life intact, and her boyfriends at bay through the phone. It truly is amazing. Pawing at me for the cake, I merely held out empty hands and shrugged. Ripping the covers off my bed, they found it wasn't there, and soon gave up. But I know them. Soon they'll hunt me down, pin me to the ground and tickle me or drool in my face until i tell them where it is. So I guess to save them the trouble, i'll just have to eat it all now...

I be back

so, after reading a comment that said, "why dont you keep your blog updated?" i decided to write again. and i think i'll have to change the background color from its surreal pink hues to something a bit more subtle. i really have nothing to say. but that's never stopped me before, so i'll just start typing and see where i end up. right at the moment, im comfortably settled in the baker reading lounge (is that what the official name is?) it's my new favorite place. a quiet room where i can type away without interruption, where i can escape from the jerks, and the busyness of the world, and the depression that still lingers. the second day of the quarter has arrived, and my first class starts in exactly thirty minutes.
yesterday was fun. i had my german class, and my computer programming thingy. i swear, i'll fail that class. but i'll have fun doing so, hopefully. i got to german a couple of minutes early, to get a good seat. i got my prime seat: the back corner seat farthest from the door. this is prime, because i can see everything, but very few can see me. it was fine, class lasted about twenty minutes, he gave us back our finals, and then dismissed us. i spent the next hour or so shopping with my lovely boyfriend, and then went back to school for my programming class. now THAT was a funny class. i walk in about two minutes early, but already, everyone is there. hesitant, i walked in, and finding no seats by themselves, i seated myself to the most harmless looking nerd in there. the first thing i noticed though was the immense proportion of males to females. i am one of four girls in the entire class. the teacher is a programmer through and through though. he showed us the main insides of a computer, and asked if we knew what the thing gold lines threading everything together were called. nobody knew, and he exclaimed, "it's called the system bus!" the class nodded in unison, to show our lack of caring, and then he continued with a little snicker, "but sometimes the bus is late.." he chuckled softly to himself for a bit, as he paced the front of the room. i just shook my head.
then last night, i wearily stumbled into bed. it was nice and early, a mere eleven thirty. but as i burrowed into my covers, i noticed that i wasn't alone. ripping the covers off, a crescent of pearly white teeth greeted me from an ebony face. "Nate! what are you doing in my bed?" i exclaimed. "I going to sleep with you," he explained. "No, nate, no you're not." shoving him out, i was plowed over by klaire, who also wanted to sleep with me. and then eman joined in. so there i was, with three younger sibs, all eager to sleep with me. for the next forty minutes, i tried to reasonably argue with them that they should get out of my bed, cause i had to sleep, and go to school, and all the fun stuff. they pushed this idea aside though, saying, "but we dont have school tomorrow!" well, maybe they didn't, but i did, i told them. but all to no avail. it wasn't until i promised certain death after i discovered them eating my chocolate,did they leave. but i got klaire back at least. i woke her up nice and early today, cause she locked my headphones in her room. muahaha. and now its time for class. i bid you adieu

Applejack

one of you will know this song very well. a ballad sung by the infamous dolly parton, you, my dear friend, who suffered through this song all the way to idaho and back, will probably give a slight shudder as you remember the several hundred times the cassette was rewound to hear this song 'one more time'. with the chipper chirp of dolly singing, "play one for me, applejack!" warbling in the background, we (meaning all the minors in the vehicle, who being minors, had no control over the music played) grew more and more sick of the song. soon, we were dreaming about applejack, thinking about applejack and his banjo, and wishing that death would come to the happy little cassette that was tantalizingly out of reach in the front of the car.
this song, thankfully, almost died after that car trip to idaho. it was heard rarely, if ever. occasionally, though, it would come back, still as peppy as ever. one of these instances was today, on the way home from church. i clambered into the car, happy, oblivious as to what was about to take place. settling myself into the back seat, right next to the speakers, i waited expectantly for some good loud music to come on. what did come on shocked me beyond belief. a slow banjo solo started, deceptively soft at first, then grew into an outstanding thunderous symphonious type sound in mere seconds. my poor ears cried for mercy as dolly launched into her song, for the thousandth time, and i sobbed heartily, begging my mother to turn it off. she simply smiled and turned it up louder. grinning, my little sister who had stolen the front seat from me tossed back a badminton racket, and began miming a seasoned banjo picker. shrugging, i figured, why not? with gusto, i played that racket like never before. belting out apple jack with all my heart, we sang all the way home, and it was fun.

sadly, i can't embed this video, so i shall just link you, so you can hear the wondrous melody of "applejack"



muaha



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Nv8hHcJyqY&mode=related&search=


~m.r.p.

Assistant Traffic Control Clerk Monitor

that's my title, don't wear it out. as i expertly guided my grandfather's truck, he bestowed this appellation upon me, and i now wear it with pride.
monitoring being over with though, i am currently drowning my sorrows in a glass of stale Life cereal, and 2% milk. i don't actually have any sorrows, other than the fact that YNH isn't available to speak at me, but i thought it sounded good. so i wrote it. i think i may clean the kitchen now, cause it's messy. and it'd give me a good reason to be up. so! i shall!

*ahem*

well, it's been a while, my faithful readers. for that, i express my deepest apologies, and your truly grovels on the carpet in anguish and shame. hm. i just realized i have nothing to say. i'm sure i'll come up with something though. ;)
drat, my music keeps stopping, and then starting again. has that ever happened to you? where the bar hasn't quite finished loading, but it's partially complete, so it jumps right in and starts to play, only to find out ten seconds into the song that it needs to rest and buffer some more. erg. so frustrating. i suppose i could just start the song over again, cause now it'll load at a pace that's fast enough for the song to catch up with it. HA! that's what i did, and now, my dear readers, my music no longer skips and jerks splenetically. ha, that is such a cool word. i love it. "Splenetic!" "You're such a splenetic!!" "spleneeeeeeeeetic..." anyways.... haha, wooo...
so, i made cake. it had no eggs. no milk. no baking powder. the substitute for these ingredients was, of all things, vinegar. what kind of cake, you may ask, is that? well, i asked that too, but as it had rave reviews from the seventy odd people who reviewed it, i rolled up my sleeves, gritted my teeth, and tried it. two minutes later, my batter was complete. (amazing how much time is spent retrieving, cracking, and cursing over eggs.) eyebrow quirked in doubt, i gazed down at my watery batter that stank like vinegar, and sadly slopped it into a pan. sliding it into the oven, i baked it for the called-for thirty minutes. sliding it back out, i flinched as the batter remained throughly soupy. returning it, i checked back in ten minutes. it was firmer now, but the edges were beginning to curl and blacken, while the middle still remained a jolly liquid. snarling at the computer that had given me this recipe, i waited a little longer, and finally couldn't contain myself. snatching the poor cake out of the oven, i rescued the crispy black edges. thankfully, the center was now, for the most part, cooked. i waited for it to cool off, and when i had decided it had had enough time, i cut myself a generous square. no wait, it wasn't really a square, the sides weren't all equal, and i doubt my imprecise cutting created an equiangular deal. ( :P )
i took a big bite of it, and immediately gagged. it was horrible. the vinegar hadn't quite cooked out, or something, and it tasted disgusting. the chocolate was a meager, scant flavor, acting more like an afterthought than the actual amazing taste-bud waker-upper it was supposed to be. going online, i severely upbraided the seventy odd reviewers who claimed it was good, and delivered a harsh review of my own, condemning eggless, milkless and baking-powderless cake for all eternity. sighing in disappointment, i covered my cake up, and went to bed, nearly crying myself to sleep over the tragedy that had just occurred in my beloved kitchen.
the next morning, i awoke. obviously. it's what one does most every morning. but, i digress. going downstairs, i looked at my pitiful cake. nearly half of it was gone. vanished! missing. unaccounted for in fact. puzzled, i tried a nibble, and was shocked. the vinegar had all vaporized out, and the chocolate taste had richened to an enormous degree. it now tasted like chocolate cake! overjoyed, i danced happily in the kitchen until people told me to stop, or i'd hurt someone. obeying, i smiled happily at my cake, thoroughly pleased.
the moral of this story, my dear readers, is to wait a bit before posting an astringent review online.

~m.r.p.