It's school - aren't you so super excited?!

I've come to the conclusion, after much fidgeting around and denying of the issue, that one of my extracurriculurs has to go. I have yet to decide which one. More on this later.

I've also decided that I like Professor Finch a lot. A lot a lot. He's hilarious, even though he sounds like he's an extremely demanding teacher. I think I'm going to have a lot of those this semester. Dr. Downing, who reportedly gives people D's on their first papers, Professor Baker who won't put up with any crap, Professor Finch who demands the best and more, Professor Forsythe who expects all our time to be devoted to weaving, oh, and wait, I haven't even met one of my professors yet.

I just keep thinking of what Mom always says: sometimes it's the really hard, demanding, difficult professors that make you. And by "make you," I seem to mean that they're the ones who draw out of you more than you thought you had. More talent, more hard work, more skill. So, here's to hoping that I have some talent, some skill, and some work ethic to be drawn out by these hard, demanding professors. And here's to hoping that some of them are not as hard as they seem.

At least I'm not taking three studios like Kelsey and Stef.

Perfection Is Not As Good As Grace

Something to keep in mind, I guess, as a whole new year of school starts.

Weaving today, and Philosophy and Theology. Weaving I think will be hard. It is yet to be seen if it will also be enjoyable. Only about half the people in it are art majors, which is going to make things very interesting. It will be, without a doubt, time consuming.

Theology will also be difficult I think, in that it will require a lot of prep work for every class period. But I think I like the prof, so that's good. Not someone I would connect with as an individual, but definitely someone I think I can look up to as a professor.

Philosophy.... is philosophy. He's done a good job so far breaking down the intro to philosophy to our level. Philosophy is one of those classes, though, that either brings out the idiocy in people or their innate intelligence. And mostly it's idiocy. There's one girl in my class who's already irritating - used to getting her way and being coddled, I would say. She "answered" a whole bunch of questions with a bunch of vocabulary that she obviously had no idea how to properly apply or understand. Then she tried to wiggle out of his follow-up questions by saying, "I'm not good at expounding." I mean, sheesh. In good news, though, there's obviously at least a handful of people who've given a lot of thought to philosophical questions already, or at least can speak articulately and think on their feet.

The internet in my room is still broken. So, if you send me e-mail, I'll try to reply promptly, but I won't promise anything.

I'm trying not to sign up for anything else until I see how the first week of classes goes. I did sign up for layout on the newspaper, and to write for the magazine section of it. That, plus bible study, literary group, honors congress, and work may be all I can handle. I also really want to work on the layout for the yearbook this year too though. And I know the layout editor - so I bet I could get on the staff. Eh, we'll see. Eighteen credits may keep my hands full. = D

On to dinner, homework, then hopefully a little relaxing time before actual work.
Mackenzie

Whew!

I'm here. Books acquired, groceries gotten, car arrived in one piece (although the right headlight is a different headlight than we started out with), moved in, roommate's here, drinking chai tea, deep breath, everything will be all right.

This is my thought process. My thoughts careen around corners blindly, and refuse to stop at traffic lights or road signs. What I say is never what I thought I was going to say. Too much happens, and I go through too many emotions in quick succession to really grasp or understand them. At the end of the day I have a jumbled mass of tag ends of thoughts, driblets of meaning, and a raging frustration that the internet isn't working - which I suppose is why I lie awake at night. My brain is simply trying to buy itself more time to think things through and figure things out.

I find it much harder to blog when I can't simply pick up Persephone, pop open her lid, and let it all pour out. I forget what I wanted to say, or change it, or decide there's simply too much, so I don't say anything at all.

Which I think is how this post is going to be. You'll have to guess at the particulars. What did she eat for breakfast this morning? What are her books? Are any of her friends in her classes this semester? No one will know. Except those of you I talk to in real life. In which case you'll hear everything, probably three times over. I never realized, until I came away to college, how much I depend on debriefing with my family to process the happenings of the day and validate my existence. Which is, I guess, why I still call home practically every day.

Hall meeting soon - after which I will get my belongings out of storage, and possibly write something before I go to bed. Or watch HitchHiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which they're showing on Larsen lawn tonight. If I can get someone to go with me.

Loves to all,
Kenzie

Or not....

So we're not leaving tomorrow. There's a rather long story behind that decision, mostly involving a busted car. Short version: we're leaving on Saturday instead, and will get there sometime in the evening, hopefully not too late to unpack all my crap from the car (no guarantee it will be my car unfortunately) and get partway moved in. Then to the airport as planned on Sunday, finish unpacking, unpack more on Monday, acquire books and supplies, and try to sleep before classes start on Tuesday.

Sigh. Life is never easy. Everything, though, happens for a reason, or so I prefer to believe.... So, till Saturday, at whatever time, my dear friends, au revoir.

AAAH!!!

Today I woke up to the blinding realization that tomorrow, I'm leaving for college. Heh. Scary thought, seeing as I'm only half packed, still need to get my car fixed (twice) and finish the chair project.

So really, I guess I don't have a lot of time to waste blogging, much as I enjoy that particular pursuit. See all you college peoples in a couple days. Here's to summer, rapidly slipping from my grip.

I felt like a grown-up

I watched five kids today, all by myself, including a five year old and a one and a half year old. And I made lunch and put dinner in the crockpot while watching them. To be fair though, the older ones need no watching at all - just a little refereeing every now and then.

I've not been very productive today. I've done a lot of stuff, but there's nothing to show any progress, which is always depressing.

I've decided that I'm neither a morning person nor a night person. I'm certainly not an afternoon person (three o'clock sleepies y'know). I'm a whatever-time-fits-my-schedule-so-I-can-get-at-least-eight-hours-of-sleep person.

I swear, yesterday Paxtin said something that sounded exactly like, "What do you mean we don't have anymore M&Ms?" The ironic thing was, he actually was eating M&Ms at the time, and we really did run out, and I told him, "We don't have any more." To which he replied, "What do you mean we don't have any M&Ms?" Genius baby, I tell you.

"It's funny and sad and true," she said.

But she didn't give me a critique, which makes me wonder a bit. It makes me nervous when people have no criticism, although also sort of good. It was, however, the best sort of feedback I've had in a long time.

Packing is.... progressing I guess. Sort of. More or less. There's a bit less clutter in my room and a few more boxes in the dining room awaiting packing. Still have to vaccuum out the car, get the last of the supplies I need, like detergent and cold medicine and chai tea, and tear myself away from the unimaginable comfort of my own room in my own house with my own kitchen and bathroom. Sigh. The hardships we endure to get an education.

I'm not sure what caused me to start a painting in the middle of this madness. I keep thinking, ooh, it needs some of that, and then I dig through boxes again to get out the art supplies I packed away. It's kind of a one step forward two steps backward process. It's helping me keep my sanity though, and with all of this unbalance going on around me, I feel like that's kind of vital. Not only to my peace of mind, but to the continued peaceful existence of my family. I'm a serious falling-apart mess during moving, and I keep repeating "I hate moving" about every fifteen seconds, and I'm just not any fun to be around. Who wants that from a daughter/sister who's going to be gone soon? We all want to be happy together, because it's our last week.

In this way I justify my unpacking of art supplies. Take it or leave it.

Toodle-pip.

"Wait! No! I'm a good person! I love puppies!"

This is me.

This is me freaking OUT.

I should go do something constructive I guess.... or at least necessary, like packing. That's always good. Or finishing matting. Or finishing projects. Or more packing. Or calling people. I should do that too.

Umm..... Yeah. I'll see quite a few of my lovely readers (why do I keep assuming you exist?) in just six days. Six days seems like so very short a time. I guess because it is.

Bring on the madness.

The river is dark, but the water is sweet

Aha! I have discovered how to trick Blogger into letting me on.... Mwahahaha.

I apparently had coffee this afternoon at about 4:30, and am not really sleepy (although I am, without a doubt, tired) so here comes an update, written (where else?) in the coffee shop (it is Friday after all).

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Once again I'm sitting in a coffee shop, looking huge changes straight in the face, almost as if they were headlights and I was standing in the middle of a road.

And listening to near-blasphemy from the coffee shop attendants. Of course, I am rather opinionated when it comes to Tolkien, Lewis, and Lord of the Rings. Anyone who says the movies are ten times better, and has never even finished the books, well, they're on the blacklist.

The change currently barreling toward me is this: The End Of The Summer. There's a lot I didn't do. Finish my frog prince story. Write good poetry. Dive into my reading lists. There's a lot I wasn't brave enough to do, and that's the stuff I really regret. Surprising the crap out of Jacob. Painting the thing that's been on my mind the past couple months. Getting together with Robin. Finishing my book. Picking up the violin again. Skinny-dipping.

Haha. Yeah, right. No skinny-dipping for me. I just felt like a little levity was in order. If you seriously thought I'd regret missing skinny-dipping, I feel like you don't know me very well. Although it enters my mind that by being so sensible, I miss out on a lot of great anecdotes to tell my nephews and nieces.

It's the end of the summer, and I'm having to face all my failures. Not an easy thing to do. I'm also facing the end of 18, but that's not quite as hard.

It's one month exactly will I turn 19. Thirty-one days. Now there's a freaky thought. It pleases me, though, that I turn 19 on the 19th. But I suppose everyone has such a moment once in their life.

And goodbye coffee shop! This is my last visit for a long time. Thanks, I think. You've been pretty good to me.

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I finished matting today. Finally. I feel inordinately proud when I see the finished products, even though I'm not entirely sure how sturdy some of them are. But there's this extreme satisfaction in not hitting too many snags when you're just making most of it up as you go along.

I haven't started packing at all, which sucks, because I'm working right up to the day we leave. I may have to take Thursday off though. We'll see I suppose. Family is coming this week, so things'll be very busy, with lots of good food. And I want to get together with my friends before I leave. I like having family over, generally, but it can be draining. I can't wait to see how Blake has grown up though. He's walking now apparently, and has two teeth.

I was thinking the other day. [what if cartoons got saved.... nah.] Everything seems to snap into focus for me in two frames: how people relate to words, and how people relate to colors. It's amazing how much my extended family's relationships with colors tells about their relationships with each other. Or at least clarifies those relationships in my mind (but then, I'm told my mind has always been a bit odd).

I've decided that I'm not a minimalist, but I'm something close. I don't want merely the bare bones - I rather like richness and sonorousness - but I want nothing superfluous. I want each element to contribute in some way to the overall. It took me a long time to figure that out. So I hope I'm right.

Goodnight owl. Goodnight moon.

So apparently....

Blogger has gotten as tired of my whining as everyone else. It refuses to let me on through my own computer, and I've done everything they told me to do on the help page, and it's still not working. Thank goodness for other computers in the household.

That blessed state of numbness has descended, which heralds the end of all panicking and the beginning of large transitions. I still haven't started packing, but whatever. No doubt next week I'll be totally panicking, stuffing stuff in boxes and wildly matting, but until then.... no worries. I'll do a little of whatever I feel like towards the goal of going to college, and worry when it's time to worry. Or possibly a bit later.

I'm at the Dupper household nanny-ing right now, although I'm also flipping back and forth to the office a couple times. It is, to sum it up, exhausting. I mean, where the crap do little kids get all that energy? I swear, it's insane. And their appetites! I'm fixing a snack for one or other of the little ones about every two hours. It's craziness. It's also mostly enjoyable though. I like to read to Trentin, and I like Paxtin a lot if he's had a nap. Today he absolutely refused to nap, but absolutely insisted on climbing on top of every single table, chair, and couch, and begging for every kind of food everyone else had - even if it's something he'd have choked on and died.

I remembered, today, that Pax means peace, and I thought it was totally ironic to name a little kid Pax.... 'Cause seriously, little kids are not peaceful.

Ah.... the sound of blessed silence. Well, except for the computer keys, which are inexplicably louder than my laptop's keys. But, once again, whatever.

On to Pride and Prejudice! (or The Importance of Being Earnest?)

Ah, but MY list includes tea....

The iron squeaks and murmurs in the ground and the iron snakes slide through the green leaves. The world is crouched to drop on me out of the first green tree. Why am I doing this, what was it I said I would do? Help me now, Laura. Michael, stay with me a little. Somebody stay with me. A man should not go into the world alone.

- A Fine and Private Place, Peter S. Beagle

So I finished A Fine and Private Place finally. Not my favorite. Mostly I feel like it lasted too long for my current attention span, especially when it can be summed up in the paragraph above, really. I also finished Quo Vadis (which also lasted a bit long for me, under the current circumstances) and Machiavelli.... which, surprisingly, I found quite gripping. I think Liz suggested The Last Unicorn? I lost my list. And I think Matt suggested Dune or something like that. I don't remember what Sharon suggested, so Sharon, if you're out there somewhere.... remind me what you suggested so I can read it quick before the summer officially ends!

So I think my series of panic attacks regarding school is mostly over. At least, they don't show any signs of returning, and it's almost Monday, so that's a good sign. I feel, at least, as close to normal as I ever get. Well, maybe a little more whiny. = D

Dad and I have been spending the whole weekend working on the chair-stool-drawer-unit, so that's been fun. I cut myself today though, that was ouchy. And I spent the night at Abbi's house on Friday night, and that was a lot of fun. I feel like I'm sad I'm going back to school just when I'm getting so much into the groove of summer....

Candace left for school on Saturday. I hope she's surviving (and perhaps even enjoying) welcome week. She's just a couple hours away, in DC, so hopefully we'll be able to get together this year.

Coping

"What did I just make you - tea, right?" the coffee shop lady asked, handing me my cup as I handed her my money and punch-card in the age old fashion of coffee shops. "Yeah," I said, chatting a little bit with her about those days when your mind just loses itself somewhere (I've been having a lot of those lately). As I took my cup and started leaving, she asked me, "Do you have a coffee card?" "You mean one of those punch cards?" I asked. "Yeah," she said, looking expectantly at me. "You just punched it," I said.

See? I'm not the only one losing my mind.

Today I woke up thoroughly ashamed of my childish outbursts of emotion.

Well, that's what I would've liked to have happened. Instead, I woke up with exactly the same ticked-off attitude, and still with that awful crying-feeling behind my eyes.

Obviously I hadn't slept enough.

I went through work, decidedly unsettled because it was my last day of actual office work. Next week, I'm helping the Dupper kids with school. I actually felt sort of nostalgic, leaving that office for the last time. I hate to end things on a bad note.

At the coffee shop, I started firmly coping. And by coping I mean I got a very large glass of hot chai tea and clutched it desperately in one hand while scribbling wildly with the other. I didn't really get much writing done, but I calmed myself down a bit. I think. Then home for a long hot shower (also something I found works very well to give one a slightly better grip on sanity) and now I'm making lists - itemized, categorized, exhaustive and probably completely useless lists of everything I need to pack for college. I'm sure I'll lose them within a day or two, but hey, at least they make it look like I'm planning ahead and have a sense of purpose, right?

Today I Cried

This is a noteworthy event because it so rarely happens.

I know, I know. I'm always majorly stressed out and just on the verge of tears.... but the tears really don't come that often. I feel like that's not really healthy, but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it, so.... whatever.

I always pick the worst times to cry, too, when I do end up crying. At work, for instance. I have now officially cried at every job I've ever held. And by "at every job," I mean at the two jobs - while I was working, in front of my coworkers, both times. At least I could leave the front desk this time, so the patients didn't see me cry.

I can't even claim PMS this time. I just have bad self-control. I get mad, I end up crying all over the place, then I get mad again, this time at myself, and experience severe remorse and the full knowledge of my own stupidity. I never mean to make a big deal. I'd rather not make any kind of deal about it at all. But when it decides to come, I really don't know how to stop the crying. There's probably some sort of negative reinforcement going on here that makes me have complexes about crying, but I'm too tired and stupid to really care what it is.

And as if it's not enough to cry at work, I have now had that smushed up, dry crying-feeling behind my eyes for something like eight hours. I hate that.

*sigh*

I know, enough whining. Get on with life - except your screw-ups and go on with it. I'm just so tired of having to absorb screw-ups.

Someone wake me when I'm eighty, please. When I've got enough experience to maybe be called wise, enough age that my ovaries no longer work, and enough tiredness has built up to make me no longer passionately screwing up all over the place.

"Tikrit! Tikrit! Tikrit is on fiyah!"
- if you guys missed that Daily Show, then shame on you.....

"I sailed on my first try! I let the boat do the work. That was my secret."
- What About Bob

"Well. There was this Daddy pen and this Mommy pen and they loved each other very much. So they had lots of baby pens. And one of the pens grew up to be better than all the rest. So I bought it."
- Aaron

Yeah.

Well. It's Sunday night again, so I'm totally dreading tomorrow morning. Again. Once it comes I think it'll be OK. I hope. But... oh well. Whatever. Only a couple more weeks and it's back to school again, and janitoring.

So. That's it. I'm going to bed now. Or something.

[said in a very tiny voice]

Hi guys.

I'm still alive, I guess. The reason I haven't called anyone or e-mailed anyone is quite simply this: Summer is ending. I'm going to see you all in three weeks anyway. So.... Even though I feel like I should call, I also feel like, who cares? It's only three weeks. What's three weeks compared to three months? Just a couple more weeks....

Which is the reason I feel like I'm sprinting towards the end of the summer. I need to work a lot, to earn the money to buy my books and the first couple tanks of gas for the car. I need to pack all my crap, because I'm working up until the day before we leave. I'm suddenly sprinting with all my projects - I only have a very very short amount of time to do everything I should've done at the beginning of the summer. Namely a) finish the stories I intended to finish b) finish attempting to try to polish the poems I've written this summer(which is distressingly few) c) mat all the pictures of mine I want to mat before I head to college and don't have access to a matcutter d) mat all the pictures Grandpa wants me to mat (17) before I leave. Oh. And I should probably get in touch with my future roommate, Meredith, to organize whatever it is that we still have to organize.... Which really isn't much. We already agreed I'd get the fridge and she'd get .. er... the microwave or the tv. I forget which. Anyway. I have the fridge. It's the most gorgeous little fridge you've ever seen.... well, not really, but the pleasure of possession makes it seem so.

Today Aaron and I went to the coffeehouse.... that was fun. and Wynn-Dixie, which was hilarious.

And now I have mysteriously run out of words to say.

So... I'm stopping now.

My Favorite Bio Question:

If an albino woman is married to a man with normal coloring and they have an albino child, what was the genotype of the man?

c) male

I mean, seriously. I almost started giggling right in the middle of the test. But then I thought the professor probably wouldn't appreciate me laughing at his test.

I was fascinated to learn the other day (while assidously playing with the calculator at work) that if you add (0)123456789 and 9876543210 you get 9999999999. My sense of symmetry is very pleased by that.

"Only a very few people were harmed in the making of this movie, and only one of them was unable to recover."

I am currently involved in pondering the deep questions of life, such as: is it tomaetoe or tomahtoe? And why do they taste so crapping good?

I get this perverse kind of joy in using microsoft word's search feature. Click on Clippy, and Clippy says: "Type your search question." I type in whatever I'm thinking about at the moment - food usually - and he flips around, pretends to search earnestly, and says, "I don't know what you mean. Please rephrase your question." I refine my search from "food" to "sandwiches," or "radish sandwiches," or even "strawberries." He says again, "I don't know what you mean. Please rephrase your question." No comprehension registers on his face. (Well, given the fact that he doesn't have a face and wasn't programmed to show comprehension) You're right you moron! You have no idea about food! Mwahahaha!

Ahem.

Mom and I went to Huntsville today. I got fabric for pillows (gorgeous) and exactly the right bedspread to go with it (also gorgeous, and much harder to track down). We also got a refrigerator for the dorm room.

Today is one of those smile uncrontrollably days.

Tomorrow? Who knows what tomorrow will be. I'm not sure I want it to come.

Today is August.

That makes me depressed.

The rest of my summer is rapidly disappearing before my very eyes. Next weekend more family's coming over, the weekend after that we have plans, the weekend after that we supposedly are making plans, and the weekend after that (if I've counted the weekends correctly) is when we leave for PA. If it's got to come so fast, why can't it just come right now?

*sigh*

I think I'm getting a little deranged from three weeks with no private time. Oh, it was all for good causes.... don't get me wrong. But I'm feeling deranged nonetheless.

Oh. Plus I have to leave for work in ten minutes. That's the other reason I'm feeling deranged.