Planning my life

Does anyone else ever feel overwhelmed by their own expectations?

My Plan for My Life (always subject to change):

Final 10-Piano Concert July 31 - August 14

School through Spring 2012

Capstone internship spring/summer 2012

Mission?

Master's?

Espanol practica

Soy terminado sentiendo triste sobre se apatando de Jill y Mara. Estoy listo para mi clases de primavera y el desafio ese la clase de espanol sera. Ese es no decir no estare entusiasmada si Jill llamara mi hoy. (Necesito tildes en estos palabras.)

Gone

Spent all day yesterday moving out. I feel like there's a piece missing from my life - actually, two pieces. Their names are Jill and Mara.

Blinking fishy

Click to see animation

Three very short stories

The Car

Jed drove. He cranked the front window down on the driver's side and focused on the road ahead, enjoying the heat reflecting off the street, the wind in his hair as he drove with one arm out the window, hanging partway down the side of his car. He turned up the music and sang along, not caring if he sounded off key, not caring whether he sang the right words, not caring about anything except how good the heat and the breeze and the steering wheel felt on his face, in his hands. It was just that kind of day.

Untitled

“Don’t you understand? I’m not coming back. You’re a freak. Every person in this gang is a freak.”

His every word hit Sara like a physical blow. She felt her eyes filling with tears. She’d never felt this much pain from anyone. It just kept coming, washing over her in waves like a tsunami.

Derek shook her hand from his shoulder and bowed his head low. She saw his shoulders shake and moved instinctively to touch him again, to help him, to take away his pain-

“Stop it!” he cried and her hand jerked back. “Don’t touch me. You don’t deserve this life, Sara. You don’t deserve my pain. Let me carry it on my own.”

The wetness on her cheeks betrayed the tears. “I can help.” Sara repeated the words, over and over. “I can help. I can.”

“I know you can.” Derek’s voice was still shaking, but the tone was calmer as he strove for patience. “My friend just died, okay? Give me some space.”

Sara took a step back, feeling like trash. It was hard enough knowing someone she cared about felt such anguish. It was harder still only being allowed to watch him suffer. She watched him, torn, as he cried silently into his sleeve and then pulled himself together.

He grabbed his jacket and took a step toward the door, avoiding eye contact. “I’m leaving.”

She watched as he pulled on the worn leather covering as he walked away. When he got to the door, he hesitated and looked back. “Thank you. I’m sorry about what I said. You’re not a freak. You just don’t have a life of your own. Take care of yourself, Sara.”

The door opened and closed. Sara watched him go. She could not bring herself to track his leaving through the window. She sat slowly, then rested her head on her knees and wept.

Summer Day

Jan stared off into the distance, gaze roving, not really seeing anything her eyes touched. It had been years since she'd last been here, her hometown. The sun felt good on her back, soaking through her shirt like mist. A light breeze cooled her skin and swept the hair from her eyes. She gazed straight ahead from the front step of the train station entrance, looking and yet not looking at the street, bustling with afternoon activity and noise. Nothing could touch her in the place where she was. Nothing, ever again.

Floating brain syndrome

Woke up at 7 this morning so I could get to school at 8 and study with some of my friends for three hours until our Comms 300 final (scheduled) began. Once the clock hit 11, we went into our class and waited for our professor to arrive and pass out the tests.

"She better come soon!" I said to Katie and Carmen (my study friends). "Every second I sit here, I can feel little bits of information floating away."

"Oh yeah," Katie said mock-knowingly. "Floating brain syndrome. Better hold on to your brain."

What she didn't know was, that was the whole reason I wore my grizzly hat to school this morning. I would have told her and gotten another laugh out of Katie and Carmen, but right then our teacher arrived.

Life's adventures

An updated to do list:

• 300 law paper
• 308 final project
• 321 final story
• photo story (photo captions, article)
• find story log (probably on Mara's desk)
• 321 portfolio (resume, 3 writing examples)
• 308 movie review
• 308 figure out how many pages my journal and news articles are
• BoM final
• 300 final

Other things

• Jill got Breeze (the dog) last night; Breeze is having tummy/bowel problems (sooo fun, especially for Jill when she had to clean up a mess this morning...) we love her but when Kris (Sugar's "mom") offered to swap Breeze for Sugar, Jill was so happy she called me right before her next class just to tell me the good news - we will now have Sugar for a week instead of poor stinky Breeze! Best of luck and many thanks to Kris
• Had a good interview this morning with a BYU biology professor
• Discovered my friend Stephanie has a blog too and added it to my list. She's hilarious and I love her blog already. If you feel so inclined, check it out: cookcleanmen.wordpress.com
• Feeling like watching Sara-Knows-What some more with Sara
• Glad Mara got to and from Idaho safely and had a good time while she was there
• Trying to decide between attending a potluck final review or our last ward activity tonight
• So excited to turn in my 11-page Media Effects paper tomorrow!
• So close on my photo project/so frustrated I couldn't get into the newsroom this morning to finish it
• Strawberries... mm
• SUNSHINE!
• Went to a great fireside with Jill yesterday, got almost-blisters on both feet because I was wearing my dress boots (which are better for walking than my heels, but I would really love sandals or something I can wear to church and walk in), then accidentally tore off the nail on my big toe (I know you all wanted to know that) last night before bed so my feet aren't too happy with me right now - but hey, at least it's a sunny day!

Rejoice! (The Lord is King)

Yes! Yes! Yessss!

1. progress on to-do list
2. funny stories about computer labs yesterday and Wednesday
3. awards banquet last night with Jill
4. extra sleep
5. Friday
6. Saturday
7. no longer homeless
8. combination of stories!
9. done with Media Effects!

10. I have strawberries! (funny story with that, too; I love you Grandma!)

11. April showers bring May flowers... for my birthday

Sing with me!

Focusing my thoughts/ Holy "to do" list

Yes, "to do list" now counts as an expletive.

• Media Research project/321 final story (interviews, article)
• 411 final paper (revisions, print)
• get picture for required religion classes story
• Book of Mormon reading and homework
• Photo story (to do Thursday morning; talk to RJ first)/ Men's soccer season preview (pictures, article)
• 321 resume, portfolio, beat history
• Football scrimmage/clinic preview (article)
• Article for work 1 (Y Chem)
• Article for work 2 (undergrad awarded NSF graduate fellowship)
• Article for work 3 (alumnus)
  
• I think that's everything this week...
  

Total Empathy

Sara could hardly look at Bethany’s arm. It was bent at a weird angle underneath her. Bethany herself lay unmoving in the ditch, the 4-wheeler overturned beside her. It was a miracle it hadn’t landed on her.

Bethany groaned as Sara slid down the steep incline into the dirt nearby. Sara’s heart was thumping like a drum, moving up into her throat as she surveyed her cousin. Bethany didn’t look too good. Her face was pale and drawn. She was as helpless as Sara had ever seen anyone.

“Sara?” Bethany’s voice came out weak and thin. She coughed, winced, and tried again. “Sara. We have to call my dad.” Her voice came out stronger the second time.

Reflexively, Sara reached to her jacket to the little zippered pocket where she kept her phone. Her fingers shook slightly as she undid the zipper and slid out the phone. Bethany grimaced and closed her eyes. Her mouth was tight in a firm line. Sara went into the contacts list and selected Bethany’s dad. Her thumb skid over the SEND button to press 3. Sara quickly erased the mistake, got ahold of herself, and pushed the button. Slowly she raised the phone to her ear.

It rang. Bethany let out another little groan and opened her eyes. Sara kept the receiver glued to her ear, trying to watch her cousin at the same time without letting Bethany know she was worried.

No answer. Sara got the answering machine. She glanced up unwillingly and met Bethany’s eyes.

“Try my mom,” Bethany said. She kept her eyes open, focused on Sara. Her face remained tight and pale. Sara found the number, pressed SEND obediently and listened to the ringing distantly. She was having difficulty thinking clearly.

There was no luck with that call either. They tried Sara’s parents next, then various other friends and relatives who might be in a position to help or find help.

“Call 911,” Bethany finally said. She closed her eyes again, tightly. The corners of her eyes began to leak tears of pain and exhaustion. Sara pretended not to see. She pushed the buttons crisply, raising the phone to her ear once more, expecting to hear an operator soon.

Silence. Sara took the phone from her ear and examined it. “Signal lost,” a message on the screen said.

“Blast it!” Bethany burst out. Sara looked up to see tears running down her face in earnest. Sara still could not bear to look at Bethany’s arm. “Someone answer!”

“It’ll be okay,” Sara heard herself say in a quiet, assured voice.

“Like heck it’ll be okay!” Bethany yelled at her. “Nobody will freaking answer their stupid phone!” She glared, breathing hard, daring Sara to try again. When she said nothing, Bethany’s anger faded and she closed her eyes again. After a moment, she said, “It hurts.”

What? Sara almost asked, but she knew. How could she not know? Bethany’s arm was twisted, bent awkwardly in two places and folded uncomfortably under her torso.

“Help me,” Bethany said. She opened her eyes and looked at Sara pleadingly.

Barely aware of what she was doing, Sara went over and knelt next to her cousin. She looked her in the eyes. She looked at her arm. Her breath caught. “I don’t know how-”

“You can help me. Please help me,” Beth said.

Sara stared at her for a moment, and then slowly lowered her hands to Bethany’s cheek and shoulder. She could feel her cousin’s heartbeat, faster than it should be. She could feel her muscles tightening, the sweat forming.

And then she felt the pain. Pain, starting in her left arm and shooting up into her shoulder. Pain from a bloody scratch on her left knee. Pain, fiery and hot, growing fiercer by the minute as if it were being stoked. How had Bethany managed to hold it in so long?

“Ahh,” Bethany said. Her eyes glazed. And Sara felt the pain.

She felt it. She took it, feeling her own wholeness flow into Bethany in return. Bethany sighed in relief. She closed her eyes, peacefully this time. She could almost have been asleep.

Sara could see the effects through the haze of pain. She watched as Bethany relaxed, no longer burdened by her injuries. Sara touched her, and Sara felt her pain for her.

Her phone went off. The sound startled them both, Bethany from a healing half-doze, Sara from her position crouching over Bethany’s chest. With a quick look of apology, Sara lifted her hands from her cousin and answered the call. It was Bethany’s mother.

Bethany hissed through her teeth at the immediate return of her own pain, grateful for the precious seconds Sara had taken it but wishing for peace again.

When Sara ended the call, she put the phone down and put her hands back on Bethany after only a slight hesitation.

“Thank you,” Bethany sighed. Sara couldn’t answer. Their eyes slowly filled up with tears.

“I’ll never forget this,” Bethany said.

When Beth’s father arrived in the 4-wheel drive, Sara helped carry her cousin into the backseat and sat by her there, holding her unbroken hand, still feeling the pain.

“Beth, you can’t tell anyone what I can do,” Sara said when they got to the hospital. She spoke in a low voice so her uncle wouldn’t hear. “What I can do, it’s not normal.”

“It’s wonderful,” Bethany said. Her jaw tightened. “You can stop doing it now. I’ll take it from here.”

Sara released her, watching as the pain flowed back into Bethany again. When Beth had it under control, she looked Sara in the eye and said, “I won’t tell. I promise.”