Boys, Boys, Boys!

My oldest sister, Becky, has four boys under the age of 12. My oldest brother, Phil, has two boys under the age of 6. Somehow this week I got the pleasure of seeing all six of my little nephews within a three day period.

Saturday I went home to Price. Phil was telling me about a conversation with his six year old, Sam. It was Phil's birthday. Sam, a week earlier had asked him,
"Dad... is it your birthday next week?" Phil replied, "Yes, It is." Sam, nearly unable to contain his enthusiasm explained, "Well! Looks like we're going to have to make a trip to the dollar store this week!" Sam was listening as Phil told me the story and chimed in, "Which we did!" HA! And when Phil opened the socks that Sam had thoughtfully given him, there was no question in our mind as to exaclty how much they cost.

Sunday was dinner at Becky's in Provo. Ben spent half the meal trying to convince me that he is actually 14, not 11. When the kids got too rowdy, Becky said, "Go do laps!" and just like that, all four high energy boys were bounding out of the house running "laps" around the neighborhood. Becky's response, "I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier." While the boys were running, we ate brownies and finished off the ice cream- hiding the empty container before the boys could come in and discover that the brownies were supposed to have ice cream with them.

Monday my mom was in Provo and offered to take Becky's boys, along with Sam, to In-n-out. Mary and I joined in. The dinner conversation included mostly talk about how Davy won't share a hamburger, drink, or milkshake with me because I have germs. Ben and Davy spent considerable time under the table. I didn't ask what they were up to. Eli drank an entire strawberry milkshake by himself. Ben got mad. Eli laughed. Davy complained about not having milkshake, but wouldn't drink any of the shakes there because of germs. Finally, I remembered the suggestion Becky had given them yesterday. "Go run laps." And the kids were off. I sat in peace with mom and Mary, only interrupted every thirty seconds as we watched the boys run past in the window. I wonder what the people at In-n-out thought... all those boys just running circles around the joint. A little girl at the table next to us: "Mom, can I go run outside?" The mom's answer: "No."

I love boys, but why so much endless energy? Why the hyperactivity, the hitting, the pushing, the shoving, the yelling? Can't they just sit down and keep to themsleves for a minute?

Conclusion: I'm not ready to have kids. And if I do have kids, I absolutely can not have boys. It's kind of like when I wanted to go on a mission, but I told God I absolutely could not go to Russia. And He didn't send me there. I am hoping that when I do want my own little bundles of joy we reach a similar kind of agreement with me not having boys.

Kicking it with 17 year olds.

I gave up life at BYU and headed back to high school. I guess BYU was just a little too prude/not interesting for me. For the past six weeks I have been spending all day every day teaching ninth and eleventh graders. Probably one of the most out of control things I have ever done with my life. Here's some of the funnier things that have come out of their mouths:

When asked to make a list of everything that came to their mind when thinking about the word white, one particularly rambunctious 17 year old shared his list: “Clouds, pure, temple, vanilla ice cream, Joe’s thighs (Joe’s his best friend who is in the class), cottage cheese, vanilla ice cream and cottage cheese mixed…”

A ninth grader: “What was Shakespeare’s last name?”

Me teaching Romeo and Juliet: “You guys have to understand how bleak this looks for Juliet. She just found out that she’s in love with her sworn enemy and there is no possible way for this to work out.” A tough kid from the back in an unintentional outburst of complete seriousness: “Awwwww, SUCK!”

Me checking students’ work: “Austin did you do your double entry journal?”
Austin: “I didn’t. I was really busy, okay? I had two dates in one day...Then I had to take a nap...”

A student's essay explaining why one character in a book was having an affair: "He'll just take whatever he can get, as long as he is getting boinked."

A girl explaining to me why she couldn’t type her essay on the computer at school: “I just don’t know how to use these big, old computers. I have a mac at home and it’s all I know. I just can't understand this old stuff.”

In a sentence requiring students to use their vocab words to describe people they know: “Laman and Lemuel were really quite insolent toward Nephi in the wilderness.”

When teaching the Great Gatsby and discussing Tom and Daisy’s marital problems: “Yah, he just needs to backhand her.”

An 80 pound ninth grader came up to me explaining to me why it takes him so long to write: “I had to learn to rewrite completely.”
Me: “Why?”
80pounder: “Because my knuckle got pushed back into my hand.”
Me: “How did you that happen?”
80pounder: “I punched it back there…”
Me: “How?”
80pounder: “With a wall.”
Me: “Uh… okay. Well I’m glad you’re learning to rewrite.”

This overweight Mexican ninth grader sent me an email about his essay. His email is sexybubba0225. I couldn’t help but laugh. My cooperating teacher came in today and was telling the students who was still missing their essay: “Luckily we got the essay from sexybubba guys, so no reason to fear. Wow, what a relief, I was really worried we wouldn't get to hear from sexybubba."

The bad thing is now I have to be a little bit careful what I do, even outside of class. A girl came up to me a few days ago:
Girl: "Ms. Blackburn, I saw you driving today."
Me: "Wow. How crazy."
Girl: "I saw you stopped at a red light."
Me: "Really?"
Girl: "I saw you run the red light, Ms. Blackburn."
Me: "Oh...."

I hate Korea

Monday, Monday

I love Mondays because......

1. Easy crossword. Rock my world. I always finish the Monday crossword. BY MYSELF!
2. I have my volleyball class. And I love volleyball.

That's about it as for good things about Mondays...
Now I guess we just once again start the process of waiting for the weekend.

In other news, I got a parking ticket. I'm sure many of you will be satisfied to know I finally got what was coming to me. It happened on Friday- November 13. I am still amazed as to how I went two and a half months without getting a ticket. If you are wondering if I am currently parked in faculty parking... I am. I'm going to keep taking the risk, even though they pegged me once. I think they only ticket on Fridays. I'll keep you updated. Since I know it's a huge concern to you and all.

epic

Have you ever noticed how a lot of times people will just start saying a word that has been around for years but not used that often? And then people are suddenly going nuts and inserting that word in every sentence possible? It happened with the word random. Nobody ever used that word and then one day people would use it for everything- even when the word didn't apply: "I just got a random phone call from my mom" Uh... why was that random? She calls you every day.

Anyway, the most recent trend in words is.... Epic. It makes me crazy. Everytime I hear the word/read the word/think about the word it makes me want to put a gun to my head. I just don't understand why all of a sudden the entire world is using this word to describe EVERYTHING. The definition of epic is "very imposing or impressive, surpassing the ordinary or of heroic proportions". So wouldn't this mean that the more people use this word, the less significance the word actually has? Because if it means that it surpasses the ordinary... and we begin to use it for quite ordinary things, well then it's not epic at all.

I can't figure out exactly when this trend started. For the last nine months I've been blaming any new trend or anything at all that has happened in the media or in our culture on our mission. So obviously when everyone started using epic, I tried to say "wow, I must have been on my mission when the whole country started using epic like it was their job" But then I realized that the first six months that I was home from my mission nobody was using that dang word at all... so it must be a more recent affair...

I'll cite to you some examples:
In a review on Adam Lambert's new music video: the just-premiered video is an epic and explosive affair.
In the same review: I can only imagine how epic it will seem when it runs in multiplexes before Michael Jackson's This Is It...
(really guys, really? You're going to use this "impressive and grandiose" word twice in the same review?
A girl commenting on that video: it's not epic, it's biblical.
(Uh, you're retarded. Don't compare Adam Lambert to the bible. Ever.)
An invite on my facebook page: EPIC BONFIRE.
(Wow, that 21 year old boy off his mish must have just figured out what epic means and now he thinks he can use it to describe the dinky fire he and his friends are going to have in the back of his apartment complex?)
An article in the Daily Universal: the new agenda should be pretty epic.
(PRETTY EPIC? PRETTY EPIC? Isn't that an oxymoron? Don't use as strong an adjective as epic with a word that is meant to subtract the significance of the adjective)
My friend last night on the couch: We should do a road trip. That would be epic.
(Yes, it might be fun, but if you say epic one time during that road trip I'm going to run you over and leave you to die on the side of the road)

My advice to anyone who finds themselves using this word: It's okay to use it, just sparingly. Epic cannot describe every event in the world. Just because you just found out what the word means doesn't mean you can use it more than once a minute.

My Dirty Little Secret

I live too far away from campus to walk. Bus passes are $120 and that's too much money to pay for just one semester. And it's pretty much a universally known fact that parking on campus is insane so how do I manage to get to school every day? No, not hitchiking- my days at BYU Hawaii are long past.

I park in faculty parking.

No one has noticed.

I've been parking there for over a month.

No tickets.

It started back the first week of school. I was late for class and looking desperately for a spot in the undergraduate parking. No spots. Anywhere. Class was starting. I was frustrated and late and didn't want to look anymore. So I zipped on up to "A" lot, parked my car in a spot where I knew I wasn't supposed to, and mentally accepted the fact that I would have a $30 parking ticket that would someday have to be paid if I want a diploma. Imagine my surprise when eight hours later, there was no ticket on the car. I thought it odd, even creepy... but decided to just try parking there the next day and continue to push my luck.

And the luck keeps on pushing. Some 30+ days later, still no ticket. I don't even look for a ticket anymore when I go out to my car. I've just accepted the fact that A) My car somehow has faculty registration so when the police parking dudes come around my car scans in as faculty or B) No one checks that lot (which is ridiculous because BYU are such Nazis about fining anyone who parks inappropriately) or C) The BYU parking dude recognizes my car on me and has a crush on me so is cutting me a break or D) I actually get a ticket every day, but someone who hates me takes that ticket so that I don't realize I'm being fined and keep parking there. Maybe by the end of the semester I will have 75 $30 parking tickets. Yikes. Over $2000. That's as much as tuition. Just to park.

Whatever the reason, I continue to live it up. I can come and go to campus whenever I please. I run home for a quick lunch or to grab something that I forgot. I go to lunch with friends and then two hours later that beloved faculty parking spot is still wide open for me. No more having to stay on campus for eight+ hours because I have a good spot and if I leave in the middle of the day someone else will get the parking spot. The doors it has opened are endless.

Toe crisis

I feel like I should have a welcome back party for myself. Of course, I think that every time I post on my blog. I enjoy doing it, and yet somehow it is hard for me to be consistent.

For some reason I never feel like posting about anything significant. So I've decided all just continue positing about the minuscule and unimportant happenings in my life. Can your toes keep growing? Today I looked down at my foot. I was sitting in a rather boring class and the subject material had long ceased to hold my attention. I wiggled my toes around, looked at the sore on the top of my right foot and scratched my heel. Then I noticed. My second toe is longer than my big toe! I know this isn't that unusual; tons of people have longer second toes. But here's the thing, I have always prided myself in the fact that my toes are perfect. Each toe is the appropriate length. Each progressively shorter than the one before. So one day I distractedly look down and notice that my second toe has grown longer than my big toe? How does that happen to someone?!?

In other news I'm still mad about a parking ticket I got over a week ago. It was for parking in handicapped parking in Wal-mart. I'm not handicapped. They figured it out. One hundred dollars.

Reasons BYU hates me

Yah, it's true. BYU totally hates me.

BYU hates me because I never return my library books on time. Like ever. It's just annoying to have to remember to bring them back by a certain date... especially when I am not done reading the book by that date. I don't have much of an excuse because you can recheck them out on line... but the catch is if you miss the date, they won't let you recheck the book out online. And once the book is overdue, you might as well just make it really overdue and hand it in whenever the heck is convenient for you. I realized that BYU hates me when the librarian chick rolled her eyes at me and told me I had a $16.00 fine. "Well, can't you waive it?" I asked her. I know they can. They're supposed to. I used to have a BYU librarian friend and she told me they pretty much have to waive the fine. "No, we really can't..." "Well, I know you can because they always do. If you don't want to waive it, you don't have to but I'll just come tomorrow and ask the guy working tomorrow to waive it." "Uh, yah... I guess I could waive it but it's a pretty big fine. Why didn't you just bring it back on time?" "I forgot. I'm in the thick of finals. I couldn't get around to it. Can you just waive it?" And so she waived it and hated me. I can hear the conversation in her head, "Dumb girl thinks she's above the BYU library rules and I am only encouraging her by waiving this fine, but what can I do?"

They hate me because I don't buy their text books from the BYU bookstore. What books I absolutely have to buy, I buy online. As much as possible I just don't do the readings for my classes. When I have to do the reading, I go to the bookstore and just read the textbook there. They usually tell me to stop after a few minutes. So I take the book downstairs where they don't care and read it there. When I'm done reading, I return the book. And the bookstore makes no money.

They hate me because I've been here for four years and I only pay half my tuition. I'm sure they would love to figure out a way to not pay me to be here each semester, but a good GPA is hard to argue with, so as much as they hate it, they have to pay me.

They hate me because I left to go to BYU Hawaii for a semester and then demanded I be let in, and be let back into my major. Then I left to Argentina for a year and a half, and I demanded to be let back in, and to be let back into my major. And as much as they would have liked to have denied me, they couldn't. It's rules. They have to follow them.

They hate me because I sleep on their couches shamelessly, I use their computers on campus, and I get mad at them if their computers don't correctly save my homework. I wear pajamas to classes, (come on, who gets dressed for eight o'clock classes?) and I haven't once joined one of their clubs. I don't vote for BYUSA president and I don't support anyone or anything on campus.

Lucky for them, they're getting rid of me in a year.

Tell them what they want to hear

I've become pretty good at telling people exactly what they want to hear. Take M for example. He is my general manager at the restaurant. I used to hate his guts. Now I just tell him exactly what he wants to hear and we get along swimmingly.

Example: Last night a corny couple came into the restaurant. I was supposed to be off the floor- the night was almost over. Well, these two bimbos wandered over into my section and so I had to serve them. The lady was nice as all get out. She kept smiling and telling me how beautiful I was. Obviously, I immediately liked her- she was telling me what I wanted to hear. So I told her what she wanted to hear... how great it is to have them in the restuarant, how sweet they are, how I wish they would come back soon.

Next, the corny couple went on and on about how this resturant is so much better than other restuarants they have been to of the same chain. Whatever, they are all the same, but if these peeps want to think one resturant is better than the exact same restaurant in a different city, don't argue with them. Just let them think what they want. Anyway, I gave the credit of our "off the hook restaurant" to M. "He drives a tight ship," I confided in them, as if it were some great secret (I was practically speaking in a whisper). "He doesn't take any slack from anyone. If the shrimp are in the oil 20 seconds too long or 20 seconds too little, he throws all the shrimp away and the cook gets the ax. He demands perfection." And you know... I went on. Shooting the bull. Talking about how great M is even though I secretly kind of hate him. He's a moron, after all. I told him once, but he didn't like that very much. All morons hate it when you call them morons.

Well, what do you know, M happened to be walking by at that exact time and I called him over, "M! This couple is dying to meet you! They want to know why this restaurant is the best they've ever been to. I told them it's thanks to you. You keep us all in line." M hates me, but I think in that instant he almost loved me. He was beaming from here to the moon. And so he started talking to the corny couple. And I escaped so I could go do my sidework and get the heck home.

Results of my telling people what they want to hear instead of the truth: the couple left a healthy tip. When I tipped out to M that night he thanked me for being a great server and said he looked forward to seeing me tomorrow night. Right. Apparently you just tell him what he wants to hear- you know- "M drives a tight ship!" and life gets a whole lot easier.

It's official

This blog is now three years old. I guess I am making it official now. by making it official I have told somebody that I have it. before noboyd knew. it was like a secret blog. Secret and pointless. Actually, that's not true, my friend H knew about it. She was the only one who ever commented on anything. Now I have officially told my other friend, Ak. After coming back from my excursion in Argy I figure dout pretty dang quick that a lot of people have blogs. So I wanted one. But I already have one. So i guess now it's time to make this blog active. As in I actively post and follow other people's blogs, you know the whole blog deal.

But is it okay if I do this? My roommate C told me I can't do it. She says blogs are only for married people and that single people with blogs are weird. Well, I've always known I am weird, so I guess it's nothing new there.

I feel like I should have some kind of blog party to celebrate this. You know when gay people come out of the closet? Like they've been gay for years, but they finally come out with it and everything? I feel that way about this blog. i've been blogging for awhile, but I am finally coming out with it. now everybody is going to read it and probably discover that I actually have nothing interesting to say at all. I've seen some blogs with pics on them. i can't even imagine how to do that. I'm just going to stick with the simple blogs. Technology is really too advanced for me these days.

Apples in the library

What do you think the library people would do if they knew that right now, at this very moment, at 4:40 in the afternoon on Tuesday, January 20, 2009, I was eating an apple? You know that eating is very strictly prohibited in the library. They might even kick me out of the library. but do you know what? the girl sitting next to me is eating lettuce and frosted flakes. i think that's about the weirdest combination I have ever seen, but she is korean, so maybe in korean they just eat what they feel like. I wonder if she knows the rule about no food in the library. I'm sure she does. but if she doesn't I sure as heck wasn't a very good example to her because I just finished eating my apple.

But who even made that rule? Who is the person that owns this library that made the rule that I can't eat in here? Whose rule is it? that rule doesn't even belong to a person, it belongs to the insitution. It belongs to the man. And then when the nineteen year old student who is getting paid 7 dollars an hour to work for the library tells me to put the apple away, I respond, "Says who?"
"Says the library."
"Not says what, says WHO."
"The people from the library."
"yah, but who made that rule? The person who made that rule is long dead so is his rule still in effect even though he no longer exists? Does the rule have a longer life than the person who made it? Because it seems to me that all rules die with the person who made them"

That's what I would say, anyway, if the nineteen year old chick came to get mad at me for eating an apple. Turns out no one even noticed.

Water temperature

I went on sabbatical. I dont even know if I spelled that right, but I guess on an informal blog nobody in the world cares. I don't even know if anybody in the world will read this. I went to Argentina for 18 months. That is a long time. That is long enough to have 2 babies. But I didn't. I'm still baby-less. And I think I will be for several more years... mostly because my best friend came over last night and told me all about childbirth and how much her body hurts now that she gave birth four weeks ago. So I'm pretty happy with childless Bon.

The sabbatical was nice but now I dont fit into where I once belonged. And there are a lot of things I dont understand. For example, why is the water always exactly the temperature that I want? I can turn the knob exxactly to the temp that would be perfect for me. In the shower, in the sink, even when I am washing dishes. That is bizarre to me. In Argentina it just came out one temperature, and the temperature of the water depended on the temperature outside. If its hot outside, the water's hot. If it's cold outside, the water's cold. Simple enough. I wonder how they do it with the knob so that it comes out just like I want it.

Some things change and some things never do. I noticed there are still a lot of BYU prudes on BYU campus and I kind of want to stick it to them, but then I decide I dont want to because they are probably insecure and unhappy and nervous so then I just feel bad and decide to be nice. I dont knwo if I am as witty or clever as a writer as I once was. Well, as well as I thought I was, anyway. Who knows if I am really as great as I think I am. There is a tall white guy in a suit down here in this computer lab and I wonder why he's all dressed up. I also wonder why he's white. Everyone here is white. That's weird too. Where I came from I was the only white person and now I am just one of many many many in a group of endless white people.

procrastination

I always blog when I am supposed to be working on papers. I am so over papers. They bug me. It's nice that I never have to take tests, instead I just write massive papers, but I am still tired of it. I love reading and I love writing, but I don't really like the writing I have to do for my classes. Critical analysis is boring. Blah. I'd rather write on my blog all day than analyze short stories or mark twain or bret harte. seriously. that stuff is boring!

I've turned into a hopeless procrastinator. I used to not be quite so bad, but this semester it has turned ridiculous. Re-dunk-ulous as my friend Ben would say. I wonder what happened to Ben? He's probably still procrastinating his homework at BYU Hawaii. He was going to go on a mission but he's probably procrastinated his papers for that.

I wonder what would happen if someone procrastinated their whole life. I think I'm about to find out.

TMI

TMI means too much information. My dad says it all the time. And I like it. Because I think it says perfectly in so little words (or letters?) what I am always thinking. I'm supposed to be writing a paper right now. I am about three quarters of the way done. It needs some serious help, but I think in the 45 minutes that I have left to work on it, I will be able to get it at least to a B paper, which is honestly all I care about. I love Bs. Bs are the new As.

Anyway, it is important that I work on this paper but it is so hard because the people in this computer lab on BYU campus are spilling TMI! All around me people are talking and I just can't help but listen. About thirty minutes ago this crazy frazzled girl came in, say at the computer next to me, and made about a dozen phone calls to people about a wedding she is planning. I don't care where he reception is going to be. I don't care what her dress is going to look like. I don't care how stressed and busy she is and she can't sleep at night. I care about finishing this paper on time! TMI. Don't have private conversations in a public computer lab.

As we speak there are two people to the left of me. They are analyzing her life. I think the guy is her brother but it could be a boyfriend, but whoever he is, he is very kind to her and very concerned for her happiness. He keeps saying that she causes her problems herself and that she wants the drama and she wants the unhappiness that she is bringing upon herself. She agrees that maybe she is not as comfortable with herself as she should be, that maybe... oh this is great. He just said, "You are fighting it. You need to stop... you just... you know... you fight it." and she said "I can't help it" and he just said, "Every time we do something with guys you try to stop it, you try to fight it. You wouldn't do that with someone else, so why would you do it to me?" and then she said, "I don't know Aaron, I am being stupid. I am sorry, okay." I don't think she is really sorry do you?

I'm sorry that her useless bantering and her TMI is causing me to not write my paper!

Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say...

..on a bright Hawaiian Christmas Day.

So I guess I miss Hawaii. Weird because when I was in Hawaii I missed home and now I'm home and I miss Hawaii. I hate that.

But I got an awesome Christmas present this year. Do you want to know what it was? Three As and Two A-s. a 3.87 to round off the semester. Pretty freaking cool.

I also got a harmonica. It was almost as sweet.

Baby it's cold outside!

I've been back in the state for four days. And do you know what? It is cold. Damn cold. And I don't even feel bad for cussing because that is how cold it is. I couldn't believe it when I stepped off the airplane and felt that gust of wind. I wa wearing flip flops and a short sleeved t-shirt with my casual jeans. It was more than warm enough in Hawaii. But now the wind cut through that paper thin material fast as lightening. My bags didn't come in from Honolulu. That's Hawaii for you. No one does what they are supposed to do when they are supposed to do it. So my bags were delayed a few days. I was stuck wearing the same cold T-shirt until my roommate and my sister let me wear some of their warm clothes.

I am already sick. I always brag about having the most incredible immune system in the world. Guess not. I'm sick. Four days in Utah and already coughing up mucus and a burning sore throat and stuffed up head... Can I go back to Hawaii now?

Favorite things to do in the cold:
1. Sledding
2. Go inside and warm up.

Favorite things to do in the heat:
1. Swim
2. Body surf
3. Hike
4. Lay out
5. Catch crabs
6. Slip n Slide
7. Jump off things
8. Take naps
9. Alright it's settled- I'm moving back to warm weather!

Ignorance and Indifference

What is the difference between ignorance and indifference? I don't know and I don't care.

Witty, don't you think?

Today I am both ignorant and indifferent. I have one more final left. I want an A. I need an A. I have to get an A in this class. But when it comes to the subject of study- I don't know and I don't care. Am I willing to put forth the hours of focused and dedicated study to ace this baby? Probably not. So what will happen? I will study half heartedly for thirty minutes, take it, and get an 85. a B. I always get Bs. It's like saying, "Yah, you don't suck, but it's definitely not good work." Bring on the Bs. It's hard to care when you only have one final left and then you have plans for the night and plans for tomorrow and then you're flying home to see all your friends and family...

So finals this is to you- I don't know and I don't care.

Nine months

I've taken a nine month break from this blog. Nine months. I could have had a baby. But I didn't. I finished a semester of school at the Y, worked all summer at the stupid restaurant, and then packed my bags and moved to Hawaii. Do you really think that living in Hawaii caters to writing every day on this online blog? It doesn't. That's why the blog has been inactive. But I am moving back to Utah in five days so I thought it was time to get it restarted. Actually, in all honesty, one of my best friends H (the only person who ever reads this blog) reminded me that I hadn't written since March. Wow, March. That is a long time.

Maybe I just don't have anything to blog about. But that is not true. There are so many things to write about that it is impossible to know where to start after nine months of inactivity. So I'll just say this. I enjoy hitchiking. I honestly enjoy it, look forward to it, like doing it. I don't have a car and I live five miles from campus and the bus is unreliable and my roommate is a brat and I am left to one option for getting to class on time: hitchiking. At first I hated it and was embarrased and barely stuck my thumb out there, feeling like a beggar and a bum. Now I stick it out with confidence. I even shake it around a little bit if the car looks like it won't stop. Sometimes I walk as I hitchike. Sometimes I run after the car if I am feeling hyper. I like hitchicking with my roommates, Ak or Am, but if I can't then I just do it by myself.

One person who picked me up was a lady visiting from North Carolina who just got a bitter divorce. She was a basketcase and kept telling me to make sure to finish school since men are unreliable pigs and as soon as they love you and leave you, you got to be able to support yourself.

One man stopped at 7/11 to grab a coffee and left me in his truck with the keys. I was tempted I admit.

I've had countless discussions about my religion and my beliefs.

One man took me and Ak around the whole island because he didn't have anything better to do so we just went for a little ride. We saw our friends and they wondered whose car we were in and where we were going but we just had to answer that he didn't know. That man gave us avocados that he had stored in the back of his truck. We cooked them with chicken, ranch dressing and melted cheese.

I've given out probably a dozen fake numbers from perverts who think picking up a hitchiker is a way to get a date.

One time a truck picked me up and had no room in the cab but said I could hop in the bed. There wasn't really any room in the bed either. He was carrying about ten bikes. I sat with a pedal jammed against my head and a tire rubbing on my leg. I was going commando in a skirt. Fun ride.

I've never felt threatened, scared, or in harm's way hitchiking. I've enjoyed every ride and gotten to know a variety of people from all over the world, coming to visit this weird island in the middle of nowhere. I'm told there are weirdos out there who rape and kill girl hitchikers, but I haven't found one yet. Most people who stop are maybe a little lonely, but very kind and selfless. It almost gives you hope in the human race.

My Biggest Fear

I have been on more first dates than there are stars in the sky. Sometimes they are fun and lead to more dates. Most of the time they are with weirdos who I never want to see again. The weirdos always ask pretty intimate, weird/awkward questions. Just recently I was asked, "What is your biggest fear?" I thought about replying, "Bad breath!" but I knew this prude of a guy wouldn't think it was funny at all. So I thought. And thought. And thought. I never gave him an answer, but I've been thinking ever since.

My biggest fear is of missing out. It is why I am so insistent that I don't get married young- getting married at 19 is a guaranteed way to miss out on loads of fun single experiences. It is why I want to study in Hawaii next year and why I want to travel the world- I don't want to miss out on a thing. My fear of missing out explains why I want to go on a mission so bad- so that I can have that experience and not miss out on so great of an opportunity.

Once I figured this out, some of my greatest problems suddenly seemed much less complex. I have often wondered why I can't hold a job for more than three months. I get bored. I want a change. I don't want to miss out on any other jobs. I have worked every type of job possible: laundry, teaching piano, retail, food service, tutoring, waiting tables, banquets, etc. I don't want to miss out on experiencing any of these dinky part time jobs. My fear of missing out explains why I have to be the last to leave the party, why I date so many different types of guys, and why I am making no significant progress toward graduating. I am too busy taking all sorts of classes so that I don't miss out, that I am not concentrating on my major enough.

My mom says I need to be more content with my life. I don't know how I can when I am so worried that the whole world is passing me by and that I am missing out on something very important. Someone somewhere is experiencing more and having more fun than me. It is this thought that I simply can not stand.

Law school decision

My dad wants me to go to law school. I want to teach English to bratty high school punks. A lawyer would make at least $100,000 a year. A teacher will be lucky to scrape by with $30,000. As much as I would like to think I don't care what they say, I am very much so influenced by my parents. So as my father pushes me to go to law school- I consider it. It has occupied a lot of my thought lately- if gonig to law school in two years is really what I want to do. I already knew I probably didn't want to go because I dated a guy in law school and his school life seemed like torture, but today my question was answered once and for all. I was going in the law building for an undergradute class. As I was passing a group of law students I noticed the attire of all of them. None were well dressed and none seemed at all aware of any kind of fashion laws. One was wearing a baggy T-shirt tugged into his jeans. The jeans came to about mid stomach. The jeans were also too big for this scrawny looking law student. He held them up with none other then a braided belt. He was wearing sneakers.

The group was standing outside a classroom, waiting for the other class to vacate so they could hold their class. It was almost 11:00 and the group was anxious to get in. Braided belt commented, "Well, we'll just have to use adverse possession and go on in there! Their time is up!" What makes the whole situation worse is that everybody laughed at this comment. Never in my life do I want to be a part of lame law jokes. The group, unaware that they had just convinced an innocent underclassmen into avoiding law forever, marched into the class, excited to learn about property laws. Call me vain if you want. Call me stupid for basing my decision to go to law school on this one experience. Call me whatever you want, but I am decided. I'll teach high school punks any day rather than hang out with the likes of the law school students.