I Have Wonderfully Exciting News

And I can't tell everyone yet, because the details aren't finalized . Let it just suffice to say that I'm very, very excited for after Christmas.

I got my Yule gift from Zillah today. I want to open it SOOOO Bad!! I made Jen take it away and lock it in her trunk where it will be safe. Willow says I should be getting my other present soon, too. Oh, and my person should be getting theirs tomorrow or Saturday. I love giving presents. I can't wait to find out if she likes it.

A Modern-Day Sleigh Ride

Since I have no horse, and no carriage, we went for a mordern-day sleigh ride.

Loud Christmas music, a convertible with the top down, lots of layers, some hot cocoa,and three blankets, driving around at 1 am, singing at the top of our lungs, looking for Christmas lights.

Several people stopped and asked us if we were drunk or stoned. I suppose it's unnatural for us to have that much fun being crazy. But, I only have a month left to do it, so...

Besides, I'd rather be crazy than normal.

I Feel Like an Idiot

My internet is so unreliable. It's driving me crazy. It hates me, and everyone else in the apartments. If mine works, Kris's doesn't. If Mine doesn't work, Kris gets "very low" signal. If we're both getting "Excellent" signal, there's nothing but a "Page Not Found" or an "Invalid Username/Passcode" page. Grrr. I cannot wait to have internet that works all the time.

I got to mail Yule presents today. I'm so excited!! Soon, soon, very soon.

You know, boys never make me crazy. Never. I'm not intimidated by them. I'm not shy or awkward or giggly or any different than I normally am. If I'm interested in a guy, i'm tactfully blunt. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Either way, I'm good with it. I don't want regrets, I don't want to have to wonder. I want to know.

That kind of attitude ends up in one of two ways: Serious long-term relationship, or one-night stand. Done both, am happy with either. If it's serious, I'm very up-front about what I'm looking for, and what I won't tolerate. If it's a short-term thing, they know I'll take scissors to any strings.

So, of course... I really kind of suck at the date-for-fun thing. I don't date. Even when I'm dating someone, it skips the get-to-know-each-other-over-drinks-and-dinner and goes straight to the my-boyfriend-back-off-barbie thing.

And you're probably wondering why I'm babbling. (Or, you're female, and already know.) There's this guy in the Mass Comm department named Caleb. We both started here at school the same year, we both did the same kinds of things in high school, we both listen to the same kinds of music. We'd been decent friends since we'd met. I've had a small crush on him since then, but I ended up dating the Ex, so Caleb and I stayed friends. Had some of the same classes, went to the haunted house together. The Caleb ended up with a fiance, who hated to share him, so we stopped hanging out.

About the same time the Ex left me, his fiance decided she liked his best friend more. We've talked several times since then. He recently started work at McDonalds. Put my name down as a reference. We now work together several times a week, see each other at the bar, talk and joke an stuff.

Now, as we've established, I like him. I think we'd have a lot of fun. Nothing that would last, but a lot of fun. I think we'd be good for each other.

I can't tell him.

And I don't know why! It's driving me crazy! I've never had a problem with this before. It's very simple, but I just can't do it. And, tonight, I was talking to Jess about it, and she says "Well, I saw it too. He was flirting with you."

I think my brain's going to explode. I don't know what to say, or do, or think. I'm moving away in a month, I'm not looking for serious, and nothing comes out right when I try and talk about it.

I feel like an idiot. He's just a guy!! Grrr. *huff*

It Snowed!!!

Jen's car.

Guilt Trip

So, I worked until 1 am the day of Thanksgiving. I went home, I called my family, and explained that I wouldn't be coming home. No inclement weather to prevent it, but it's a six hour round trip for me to spend less than 24 hours with my family. I'd be tired, cranky, and pissed off that I had to come home so soon. Plus, it is supposed to snow Friday morning, which means I would have trouble getting home.

I cried while explaining this to her at 1 am. She tried to convince me otherwise, and finally said she'd call and talk to me about it the morning.

So, she called in the morning and I explained, again, why I wasn't coming home. So, she put my Dad on the phone. I explained it to him. We argued a little. I pointed out that I really wanted to see them, I just didn't think it would be a good idea.

He started crying. Not loudly, not open, but quiet, lets-make-Inyanna-feel-guilty tears.

So, guess where I am? Yup. Back home, in Hickville. I'm glad I got to see everyone. I'm glad I've got my laptop back. I feel bad for Jen, who was stuck having Thanksgiving at work, and is now sitting at home by herself.

And I wish I didn't have to go home tomorrow. I'm tired, I'm cranky, I don't want to drive three hours tomorrow to go back to work. I'm glad I got to see everyone.

But, I'm pretty sure tomorrow, I won't think it was worth it.

Thanksgiving is Here

Well, almost.

I'm scheduled to work until close the day before Thanksgiving, and I work at 2 the day after. Assuming all goes well, I'll be leaving at 7 am on Thursday, and coming home at 9 am on Friday.

If things don't go the way I want... Well, the weatherman says it's supposed to snow and ice an sleet Wednesday night and all day Thursday. If that happens, it'll be the first Thanksgiving I've missed. Jen and I will be stuck up here with no friends, no family, and no turkey.

That would suck.

I Can't Sleep

I


Can't


Sleep


....

It's Been a Slow Day

I woke up at 1, I lazed around til work at 4, I went twork, JEss and I talked a while after, and then Jen, Jess and I went to Walmart for some Christmas shopping.

All in all, pretty uneventful.

It smells like it's going to rain. I'm waiting up on it, since I've no class for a week.Yay, no class. I love Thanksgiving Break.

I just wish I was going honme for Thanksgiving.

I Wish I lived in a Bigger Town

Please don't get me wrong. I'm not a big-city kind of girl. I lived in the largest city in Oklahoma this summer (which is not a big town by most standards, but it's big to me), and I hated it. There were crowds, and traffic, and mean people, I didn't know anyone, and it's expensive. I love my little small-town roots, where I know every customer, and all the cashiers at WalMart, and can actually turn at a stop sign without worrying about getting sideswiped.

So, you may be wondering why I want to live in a bigger town. That's easy.

I want to learn to dance.

I love to dance. I love the bar, with it's loud music and dance floor and crowds of people. I love the looks from surprised men and women when the fat girl can actually move, not just sway back and forth. But, I would like to know more. I would love to learn to belly dance. I would love to learn to Waltz, to Foxtrot, to Salsa and Tango and Swing and Latin Sizzle. Modern Dance, pom and twirl, and even take a strip class. (You know, the one where you leave your clothes on.) I've taken classes on two-step, and line dance, and square dance, and had some minimal teachings on swing, but I'd love to know more.

Why? There's very little else that makes my body feel quite as good, as pure and useful and attractive and healthy as dancing. I've always been very sensitive to music. Good music can clear my head, make my moods better, relieve stress on bad days. Music that has a lot of dissonance, or very, very deep bi-tonal bass can make me so physically ill I actually get sick.

And, even if there were someone here who offered those classes, I'd know the people in them, and wouldn't feel comfortable.

So, I can't wait til Jen and I move. They have a YWCA there, and I'm gonna find me a place to dance.

Holidays are Coming

There's a topic on the forums that has me thinking. It's a pagan forum, so naturally, they're discussing Christmas, taking Jesus out of Christmas, putting Jesus back in Christmas, the best way to wish people happy holidays, and how to avoid Seasonal Affective Disorder. All very valid, very informative topics.

But, it got me thinking about whether or not I'm giving up what I believe, by celebrating Christmas the way I do.

I love Christmas. The day after Thanksgiving, my tree goes up, with a big party to celebrate. Right up until Christmas, I wish people merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Yuletide Greetings, Happy Hannukah, and Happy Kwanzaa. I sing Christmas carols, each and every one, at the top of my lungs, to the 6 or so Christmas CD's on repeat in my CD player. On Christmas Eve, my family and I go to my Grandparent's house and open presents with them and my cousins. At 11:00 pm, we go to one-hour candlelight church service with them. Then, we go home, and go to bed, and sometime in there, "Santa" comes to fill our stockings and put out presents. Then, my little brother and I sneak out of bed at, oh, 3 or so, check to see what's in our stockings, and fall asleep on the couches, staring at the Christmas lights. We open presents, and go eat Christmas dinner with my grandparents.

Each and every one of those things could have a very Christian meaning. Most carols are Christian songs, I wish people Merry Christmas, I even attend church (for the one day of the yearg). But, I've never associated Christmas with Christ, or God, or Jesus, or Christianity.

Christmas always meant family. It meant joy. It meant Goodwill that's seriously lacking during the rest of the year. It meant donating coats, and canned food, buying a present for a name on the angel tree, carolling at the nursing and indigent homes. It meant making a little extra effort to smile at the person passing you on the sidewalk. It meant helping a lady with a newborn carry a bag up to her apartment. It meant laughing with friends during the inevitable snowball fight during carolling, and sitting with them around a lit tree drinking hot cocoa, thankful to be warm and toasty together. It meant seeing family members that I only see once a year. It meant seeing my Grandparents happy. It meant sharing a secret moment with my little brother, trading a piece of candy for an orange in the stockings, watching Mom and Dad laughing at my little brother making a wrapping-paper pile and then diving into it. It meant dressing up, Dad and Grandpa and the other men watching hunting shows on TV, Twit and Lendell chasing after the two youngest cousins to keep them from getting into things. It meant a kitchen overflowing with 5 generations of women making a meal for the people they cared about.

Even the church service was never about church, it was about the smile on Grandma's face when she got to show everyone off to the community. It was a prayer offered up to anyone willing to listen for a safe, happy, healthy year; one a little less violent, a little less painful, a little more loving for an entire planet in desperate need of those wishes.

I think we would all be a bit better off if it could be like this for everyone. If we could stop feuding about who's right and who's wrong. If we could let everyone celebrate their reasons, without adding our own agendas. If we could push for the peace, joy, love, and harmony that we sing about, and hang ornaments of. If we would stop taking offense, and start giving time.

The holidays are coming, and I propose a challenge: This year, let your actions speak for the words you use. If you ask for respect for your religion, offer the same to others. If you sing "Peace on Earth, good will towards men", drop some spare change in a Salvation Army bucket. If you string your house with lights, light up a child's eyes by sending a gift to a local family in need of help.

The Holidays are Coming. There are choices to be made. Will you say Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Yuletide Blessings, Happy Kwanzaa?

Or, will you be a living example?

My Other Job

Nine months of the year, I'm a professional student. I also work then, at various fast-food places. I do small alterations for people.

When I'm home for breaks, I work at a funeral home. I also do side jobs here and there, for various people.

During the summers, I'm often a part-time student, holding down a part-time fast food position, and working as unpaid help for someone who can help me down my career path.

I've been a golf shop clerk, a college snackbar, worked at Sonic, Flying J, a funeral home, a college, Montana Mike's Steakhouse, another funeral home, a convience store, for the PGA of America, been a camp counselor, the first funeral home, Walmart, another sonic, an independent living center, The Bricktown Association, Spaghetti Warehouse, McDonalds, and Goldentreewands. (Wow. 21 years old, 20 jobs in seven years, all left on good terms.[Ok, except for the second Sonic, but, they totally deserved it. I walked out on them midshift.] That's got to be a record.)

But my absolutely favorite job of all time has only happened in the last few years.

I blow shit up for a living. >:)

My dad's best friend's son, Levi, works for a company called Premier Pyrotechnics. During peak season for fireworks shows, we put in a lot of hours setting up explosives. I love it. It's amazing. I get to go to school for a week in April to learn how to actually be the one putting match to fuse. *squee*. I helped do this this summer. It was thirty minutes long, and each burst was set to a complilation of music, but... No one knows what the song a the end was. I guess that's what happens when you put up ten shells per second.


Anyway, there is a movie coming out soon called "Splinter" (or something like that) that we rigged explosives for. In the final climatic scene, this terrible evil monster chases some innocent people to an old abandoned gas station. In the madness, a propane tank explodes, which blows up the gas pump, which blows up the building, which blows up the monster. And, if I do say so myself, it FREAKING ROCKS!!!

It's not something I could ever do for a living, but it makes one hell of a fun side-job. Pay's not bad, either.

Listen to Your Heart

That's such a cliche, right? People always tell you, listen to your heart, follow your instincts, blah-dee-blah-blabbity-blah.

The reason cliches get to be cliches? Because they work.

I'm not sure if it's for me, one of my friends here, or one of my internet friends, but someone needs to know this. It's been bugging me all day.

You know you better than anyone else does. Yes, advice is nice, because it gives you a chance to hear things you sometimes need to hear, and hear it from a new perspective. But, advice is not always right. Only you know your life, your choices, your goals and thoughts and hopes and dreams and loves and passions. Sometimes, even when it seems wrong, to you, and to everyone else, your heart is screaming for you to make a choice. It may be a hard one, and it may hurt you, and you may have bad days where you stop and wonder "What was I thinking?!", but there is a reason you need to do this. There is a point, and a lesson, and you'll find the ends were worth the means.

Trust yourself. Love and respect yourself. Listen to that voice, the tiny, fiery one that is normally drowned out, but is crying so strongly, so desperately for a chance to prove itself now. Listen to your heart.

I Apologize

For the insane amount of pictures I'm about to post. As you will soon be able to tell, I've been a bit busy these last few days. So, I've posted pictures of what I've managed to accomplish (mostly while I was supposed to be taking notes in class.)

Willow, Fyrecreek, I do apologize for stealing both your names and identities, and taking creative license with them, but... Well, there is no but. I kind of already did it, so, there.;);)

Jennica Got Pulled Over

For the very first time, actually. 20 years old, and just now got pulled over for inadvertantly speeding. She got off with a verbal. But, it got me to thinking about the times I've gotten pulled over. Hehe.

I: 16, Red Jeep Cherokee. The day I got it. Went out riding around with some friends on a friday night. Music up waaaay to loud, look up in my rearview, see blue and red flashing lights. Turn the music off. I'm on the main drag, so there's no place to pull over, so I wave at the officer, and keep driving until there's a safe place to pull over. I stop the car, and turn off the engine, and hear over a loudspeaker "Please exit the vehicle with your hands where I can see them." Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. I get out, shaking, about to cry, and this state trooper walks up to me. I can't get my door back open to get my purse out, cause I'm shaking too hard. I get escorted back to his car, and sit there while he runs my license. The whole time this is happening, the poor officer is going "Please don't cry, ma'am, you're going to be just fine. Please stop crying ma'am.... Ma'am, it's ok, please don't cry, aw jeez..." Want to know why I got stopped? My headlights were off. When we had put in my radio, some wires had gotten crossed, and turning my radio on turned my headlights off. Verbal Warning. And, an apology for scaring me, but I drove pretty far without responding to the lights, so he was just being careful.

II: 17, Black Ford F150 Pickup. I was driving home after having gone to the farm (seatbelts are not required on a farm), and turned the corner to head up the straightaway that headed to home. Ah, crap. There's a state trooper sitting, hiding, behind the corner. I keep driving, and his starting lights come on. I pull on my seatbelt really quickly and pray. Double crap. He whips a U-turn, and the flashing lights come on. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. He walks up to my window. "License and registration please ma... Ah. Well, I see you know why I pulled you over." He takes my stuff, heads back to his car. (Terribly important side note. My father is both a funeral director, and a fireman. He knows every law enforcement officer in a 300 mile radius of hickville. He also has a scanner, so he can know when to leave for wrecks and fires.) A few minutes later, Officer comes back to my window, laughing. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. "Well, Miss Inyanna, I could give you a ticket, but I'm fairly certain your dad just heard your registration go out. And, quite frankly, whatever punishment he has planned will probably work much better than my ticket. Here's a written warning, I recommend you head straight home."

Oh, and he was right. I got home, sat on the chair at the kitchen counter, and a minute and a half later, I hear screeching tires, a door slam open, and door slam closed, and then the kitchen door slammed open. I got a thirty minute lecture, and grounded for two weeks. Dad even took away my keys, made me take the bus to school.

III: 18, Kansas, The Little Green Frog. Over Christmas break, I was staying with a friend and working. I left for work one day, and headed the 15 miles back into town. I pass a cop headed in the far direction, and my gut sinks when he flips around. On go those lights. I pull out my license and temporary insurance, as my new cards are in the mailbox at the dorms, and they don't allow us to have access to it over break. (Dumb, huh?) The officer walks over to the window, and I smile my most confused-sweet-and-innocent-very-confused-edly charming smile, and say "Hiii thehr, awficer. Is somethin tha madder?" (Again, that only makes sense if you say it in my accent.Come on, try it. You know you wanna.) He laughs and says, "You're not from here, are you, darlin?" "Nossir, Ah'm shore not." Turns out, he grew up in a town 15 mintues from Hickville. Was best friends with my favorite teacher. Went to the college that my mom works at.

20 miles an hour over the speed limit, no seatbelt, invalid insurance, snow-and-ice covered plates, and an expired license. (The post office won't let me have my mail, so the insurance company sent me this and said it'd work. And I knew my license expired two days ago, but it's Sunday, and Christmas week, and I was supposed to fix it when I got to go home for break, but work scheduled me. I don't even get to see my family for Christmas.)

I should have gotten about $450 in tickets. Or arrested. But, he let me off cause I was such a "nice young girl. Now, don't you speed, and try and get the rest of that taken care of once school starts again." *gloatgloatgloat*

IV: 20, Little Green Frog. No valid insurance. Taken off my record after proving I had it.

V: 21, Silver Chevy Cavalier. Got turned around in the city, didn't yield at a yield sign, almost ran into a cop. He felt bad for me, but no valid insurance. Again, waved on proof.

I gotta stop getting pulled over. One day, my luck's gonna run out, and I'll end up paying a lot of money...

Hard Talks

For about a year now, there's been a man on the fringes of my life that I've been friendly with. He was dear friends with Zillah, a Magic: The Gathering partner for the boy, and more recently, the ex-boyfriend of Kris.

He's a very, very odd person. Very odd. Most people can't stay to be around him for long periods of time, because he's weird. Which means, he's also fairly lonely. When Zillah moved, and The Boy moved, and Kris dumped him, there was no one left but Jen and I, and only I can tolerate him.

He's very immature. He's 28, with the life's knowledge of a 10-year-old, and the wisdom of a 40-year-old. Interesting complication, let me tell you. Occasionally, he needs someone to talk to, and I, apparently, am the best candidate. So, we go to the park on campus, and walk, and talk.

He's been trying to arrange to talk with me for about two weeks now. I've been dodging it, because I know he wants to talk about Kris, and how he can make her love him again so they can be together and happy. Being together makes her physically ill with guilt, because she doesn't love him, and only spends time with him because he begs. It has become my responsibility to gently inform him that she needs space, since she lacks the tact to do so.

We met at the park today. Turns out, he didn't want to talk about Kris. He had something entirely different on his mind.

He was supposed to be dead.

Wait, huh? Yeah. He had been born with a defect. He'd been born with two hearts, very odd tonsils, and a blood-type no one else in the world had ever seen. Perfectly functioning. But, the doctors warned his family that it was VERY LIKELY he would die before he was thirty. When he was 16, he'd had a premonition that he'd die before he turned 19. He didn't, but still didn't expect to live past thirty. Last week, he had a doctors appointment. They examined him, and guess what they found?

Functioning perfectly. Perfectly healthy.

So long as he doesn't need a transplant, or get in a car wreck, he should live a normal lifespan. The problem? He'd never planned to live. He didn't know what to do with himself. He had no idea where to go for the next 50 years. He was lost. What's the point of living? What was he supposed to do? He had no drive, no ambitions. What's the point of life?

I'd already gone through the same problem with Zillah. She had known since she was 13 that she would die on Oct. 23, 2006, the day before her 24th birthday.

She didn't die. She was lost. She'd never planned on graduating, getting a job, having a husband or a family. She stopped going to class, pulled away from her friends, started sliding into a depression. One night, a month before she graduated, I'd had enough. I'd seen enough. I sat her down on my bed, worked us up to a good yelling fight, and then screamed at her: "I'm sorry you weren't ready for this. Guess what!? You're alive!! Stop wishing you were dead, and start living!" (BTW, it worked.)

I can't do that with Remmi. He's not ready for it yet. So we sat there for a little while, and I thought about it. Why are we alive? What's the point of living? And then I knew.

"Moments like this. That's the reason we're alive. Moments sitting on a park bench, watching the fall leaves, talking with your friends. Knowing that you're loved, and cared for, knowing that, for just this moment, you're happy with yourself, and your surroundings.'

"Moments like right now, when time stands still. That's why we're alive. That's what we living for. Not to be a millioniare, or see the world, or work a mindless job on Wall Street.'

"Life is worth living, for times like right now."

Stupid Internet

My apartment internet is down again. Four the fourth time in as many weeks. This time, it's been down for a full three days, and they're not sure what's wrong, so they don't know how long it'll take to fix. So, hopefully, it'll be fixed soon, and I can go back to writing on here.

Cause ,I can't talk about everything I want to talk about sitting in a classroom surrounded by other students.

An Oddly Artistic Mood

I am not an artist. I am kind of crafty, and can do little projects. I enjoy them. I can be an artist with words, twisting poetry, leading a reader down a passage of prose, or through the darkened corridors of a story. I do not, however, have that talent with pencil, pen, or brush. I cannot draw, or paint, or sculpt. (Although, I do thoroughly enjoy myself a pottery wheel.)

I do, however, occasionaly have myself an oddly artist mood, where my creative mind demands that it have a chance to explore itself. Most often, this in via word processor, and they result are, more often than not, less than spectacular. More rarely, it will demand colored pencil and paper, as some aspect of some person begs a design to fit them. I've pages and pages of shirts, suits, and dresses, all inspired by someone, made specifically for them, and named after them. Jen, Kris, Zillah, Zoe, Dana, Malory, Fyrecreek, and Willow all have at least one. Hell, even I have one, and I never draw stuff for myself.

But today, my inner artist cried for a different type of pencil. She poured herself onto the page, a rough sketch done in less that five minutes, touched up with a pen in as many more, so the scanner could see it. In my head, she's splashed in color, ground brown, leaves of gold and orange and rust and auburn and fire, hair raven, skin fair, gown of muted silver and fine cloth, cloak of earthy green, eyes vivid green and burning with an inner fire.

Her story wrote itself as she appeared in the physical, a tale of fear, and hope, and the smell of burnings nearby. She's alone, possibly for the last time. She's with her earth, her air, her nature, and for a moment, in the Witchs' Place, one of the last remaining, she is whole, and strong.


I told you I was feeling oddly artistic, didn't I?

I Shoved a Marshmallow In Jen's Ear

No, seriously, I did.

You know the little hot-cocoa-sized marshmallows? She was throwing them at me. I warned her not to throw them. She kept it up. I threw them back, warned her that I would shove one in her ear. Did she listen? Nope. So, I pinned her down, acted like I was going to shove it up her nose, and when she went to cover it, I stuck it in her ear. Yes! I am not full of fail!

Yeah, I've been in a weird mood all day. Woke up sick, but I feel fine now. And I'm still adjusting to the time change, so even though it actually feels like 2:30, I'm still wide awake, cause I slept til 1. Crazy, baby.

Ohohohoh!! So, for Thanksgiving and Christmas, my Mahaw and I always make our own divinity and peanut brittle and hard candy. I've always helped her (read: mixed the ingredients, watched it come to boil, watched her pour it onto the cooling thinger, eaten the results). So, today, I decided to try and make pomegranathe hard candy.

Man, was that bad. It stuck to the wax paper, and tasted like burnt sugar. Ok, so that makes another thing to add to the list of "Do Not Allow Inyanna To Make": Hard Candy, raspberry fudge, pumpkin pie, divinity, fruitcake, pecan pie...

Anyone else noticing a pattern here?

Note to self--Great Cook, not a baker, should not make recipes calling for fruit...

Boys Are Dumb

I went shooping today. Zillah came up to the nearest town, Kris and I went over, Zillah got her new tattoo. Since I got my loan check in a few days ago, Kris and I went shopping after Zillah left. I needed some winter clothes, and some other female-required clothing.

I was really excited. I normally hate shopping for bras, and I hate putting clothes on my body. I'm a big girl, and they do not carry an "F" size bra in Oklahoma, nor do they make clothes for larges chest unless they also cover giant stomachs. A giant stomach, I do not have. But, we found three bras, and several very cute winter shirts. I love ROSS. Seven items, 35$.

I came home, Jess called, wanted Jen and I to go with her to the bar so she could babysit a friend of hers. We agreed. I put on makeup, fixed my hair, put on some of my new clothes. I thought I looked very cute. So did everyone else.

We were out on the dance floor for the last song, and I'm dancing, Jess is dancing, Jen's kinda swaying (which is how she dances), and Jess's friend is drunk and all over the place. I was feeling pretty good about how I looked, out there in my cute clothes, rollin my hips to "Pop, Lock, and Drop."

Three guys walk by, and two of them try and shove their buddy in to dance with Jess as they walk by. Jess is about my weight and build, about 5 inches shorter, and cute as can be. Carries herself very well, looks nice in everything. The guy takes one look at her (behind her, so she can't see), makes a gagging face, and smacks his buddies, who're laughing.

Of course, naturally, I see this, and it pisses me off. So, I glare at them. The two buddies have the good sense to look away, but the one guy looks at me, mouths "What? You're fat and ugly too. You three look like a bunch of whales trying to wiggle back into the ocean." Then he flips me the bird and walks off.

Knew I should've stayed home.

The Stupidest Thing Ever

I absolutely love Christmas. It's one of my favorite holidays. Food, lights, family, The Christmas Story on TV, joy in the world, and giving presents to light up people's day. What could anyone possibly not like about Christmas??


Oh, ok. Maybe just this one little thing. IT ATE MY @#$%^ HOLIDAY!! Halloween is my favorite holiday. This year, the day they started putting up Halloween stuff... Christmas started going up in the next aisle. The next day, little display christmas trees went up. A week before Halloween, it took over one entire aisle of my two-aisle Halloween display. The day before Halloween, it ate another half of my aisle, and filled it with Christmas candy.

Every sign in WalMart says, "54 shopping days left 'til Christmas." Why are we shopping for Christmas? I'm not even sure I can afford a turkey for THANKSGIVING!!!!

And now, the final straw. Jen says the great big giant Christmas Tree went up in the entrance today.

This is crap. *sulks* It ate my holiday.

It is Done

My paperwork is all turned in. Things are signed, completed, and soon to be graded. It's official.

I no longer work for Goldentree Wands. MY LIFE IS OVER!!!

Nah. Actually, I still have a few bits and pieces to send them this weekend, as MicroSoft FrontPage is being a butthead. But, according to the school, I'm done.

A few of you may be confused. (A few of you. Pffft. The only people who ever read this are Willow, Jen ((when she's editing)) and me.) "Why, Inyanna, I didn't know you worked for the Goldentrees," you may say. Well, you're part right. I, Inyanna, did not work for the Goldentrees; my alter-ego Kyna did.

I had to have this internship thing for school, and the Goldentrees were ever-so-kind enough to let me intern for them. It ROCKED!! But alas, it has come to an end.

We had one trick-or-treater yesterday. One. A big gray rubbermaid tub full of candy, decorations everywhere, and we get one measly trick-or-treater. And we kind of kidnapped them from someone else. We hear *Knock Knock Knock* downstairs, lean out the door, and go... "Are you trick-or-treating?! We have Candy!! Come Visit Us!!" We're sad little people.

Oh, yeah. We saw "The Game Plan" tonight. It was really cute.

And The Rock is gorgeous without his shirt.