oh,
and i saw a deer running across foothill blvd.
it is a beautiful night.
rockstar giveaway!
6 hours ago
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Someday...
we will graduate.
we will live in a house that doesn't share a wall or ceiling with someone else.
we will own a washer and dryer.
we will have married friends to hang out with.
we will have adorable little children whom I will chase around.
But today...
we do more homeworking than talking to each other.
we (meaning Kraig) cram all night for exams.
we (meaning me) spend hours and days and weeks writing papers.
we sit home on Halloween.
we go to our old roommates' houses to do laundry.
we hear our landlord's phone conversation and hear them urinating frequently.
Today is good,
but someday will be great!
we will live in a house that doesn't share a wall or ceiling with someone else.
we will own a washer and dryer.
we will have married friends to hang out with.
we will have adorable little children whom I will chase around.
But today...
we do more homeworking than talking to each other.
we (meaning Kraig) cram all night for exams.
we (meaning me) spend hours and days and weeks writing papers.
we sit home on Halloween.
we go to our old roommates' houses to do laundry.
we hear our landlord's phone conversation and hear them urinating frequently.
Today is good,
but someday will be great!
Friday, November 6, 2009
Short Story Part 2
The next part in my story. Keep reading and tell me what you think.
I always give my customer's boring, unoriginal names. I don't really know why. I guess it's because I'm not all that creative.
I look up from my sketch of John to see Mary. She's been a regular here for the last two or three weeks. Her husband is on the eighth floor, ICU. He had a pretty major stroke and is still on a breathing machine and a feeding tube. She has sad eyes. But I think I see a bit of hope clinging with its tiny fingernails to Mary's withering soul. In my head, I offer her any additional hope I can.
"Mary, how's Jim doing?"
"Oh Nancy, dear, I just don't know. He's the same as yesterday and the day before and every day before that. After the first few days, which I thought would be his last, I let myself hope. But, when I look at him now, the hope just isn't there...because my Jim isn't there." She has tears in her eyes and the last few words come out like she's choking on sorrow.
"I know it's hard, I'm so sorry." I attempt empathy but I know that it falls short.
Our conversation dissolves back into my imagination. Mary offers me a sad smile as she runs her hand over a small wooden statue of a young couple slow dancing. She purchases yet another Get Well Soon balloon and leaves.
I turn to my ever-changing sketch of Mary's face. I erase her eyes yet again. They change and lose more hope every day. I've erased them so many times that soon there will only be empty holes to replace them.
In the long, slow hours I often wonder how I would react, what my face would say, if i were the loved one of a patient here, rather than just an observer. But then I remember that I once was. It's an event I block out and sometimes can completely forget. My mind is like an attic filled with memories which are dusty antiques. That particular memory is an antique, still-ticking clock that I've covered with a big white sheet. I know it's still there, it's shape is evident, but I cover it and try to forget it. But never can I cover up the constant tick-tocking that fills my life.
I always give my customer's boring, unoriginal names. I don't really know why. I guess it's because I'm not all that creative.
I look up from my sketch of John to see Mary. She's been a regular here for the last two or three weeks. Her husband is on the eighth floor, ICU. He had a pretty major stroke and is still on a breathing machine and a feeding tube. She has sad eyes. But I think I see a bit of hope clinging with its tiny fingernails to Mary's withering soul. In my head, I offer her any additional hope I can.
"Mary, how's Jim doing?"
"Oh Nancy, dear, I just don't know. He's the same as yesterday and the day before and every day before that. After the first few days, which I thought would be his last, I let myself hope. But, when I look at him now, the hope just isn't there...because my Jim isn't there." She has tears in her eyes and the last few words come out like she's choking on sorrow.
"I know it's hard, I'm so sorry." I attempt empathy but I know that it falls short.
Our conversation dissolves back into my imagination. Mary offers me a sad smile as she runs her hand over a small wooden statue of a young couple slow dancing. She purchases yet another Get Well Soon balloon and leaves.
I turn to my ever-changing sketch of Mary's face. I erase her eyes yet again. They change and lose more hope every day. I've erased them so many times that soon there will only be empty holes to replace them.
In the long, slow hours I often wonder how I would react, what my face would say, if i were the loved one of a patient here, rather than just an observer. But then I remember that I once was. It's an event I block out and sometimes can completely forget. My mind is like an attic filled with memories which are dusty antiques. That particular memory is an antique, still-ticking clock that I've covered with a big white sheet. I know it's still there, it's shape is evident, but I cover it and try to forget it. But never can I cover up the constant tick-tocking that fills my life.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Short Story
For my teaching methods class Professor Kaufman gave us the challenge of tackling a writing genre that we've never tried before. I've never written anything fiction so I decided on a short story. I'm slowly working on it and thought it might be a good idea to post my very rough draft segments on here in hopes of getting some response/critique. I haven't exactly decided on a title. Here are the options as of now: The Hospital Gift Shop, At The Hospital Gift Shop, Ovservations While Working, or Creating Their Lives. So here's the first little bit I've written. Please note that this is the first thing that came out, no revision thus far. Here goes:
My days are long at the hospital gift shop. Long and monotonous. I don't really talk to the customers. They are too caught up in their lives, in their loved ones on the eighth floor, the fourth floor, or the ninth floor. And I'm too caught up in my life, in my loved ones in the eighth grade, the tenth grade, and somewhere else I don't quite understand.
So I occupy my days creating the lives of my silent, preoccupied customers. I've worked here long enough to be able to tell by their faces, or at least guess, why they're at the hospital.
I walk into the gift shop at 9:00 am and use my key to open the metal gates that are just waking. They screech and hollar that I've disturbed their peace as I raise them over my head and switch on the lights. All the cheesy, over-priced gifts smile at me and say good morning. I smile politely like I always do.
My first customer comes in at 9:15. He looks completely exhausted. I name him John. He's here with his wife, who's been in labor for 17 hours. John's not here to buy anything; he simply needs a break. He's been holding his wife's hand for so long that the fingers on his left hand are tingling. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fist. The bags under his eyes are almost growing visibly before my eyes. I want to say, "Hey it'll be over before you know it. My first labor, with eva, was 26 hours long. But as soon as she was in my arms, it felt like only minutes. Your baby will be worth the wait."
But, as always, I remain silent; the conversation is only occuring in my head. John catches my eye and nervously grabs a bag of candy, purchases it, and rushes back to his wife's side.
I spend the next hour sketching John, the worried, soon-to-be father, in my sketch book. I try to remember every detail I can from our brief, yet telling, meeting. It might seem odd that I do this with all my interesting customers, but I don't think it's odd at all. I create their lives in order to breathe life into myself.
So there it is so far. Let me know what you think.
My days are long at the hospital gift shop. Long and monotonous. I don't really talk to the customers. They are too caught up in their lives, in their loved ones on the eighth floor, the fourth floor, or the ninth floor. And I'm too caught up in my life, in my loved ones in the eighth grade, the tenth grade, and somewhere else I don't quite understand.
So I occupy my days creating the lives of my silent, preoccupied customers. I've worked here long enough to be able to tell by their faces, or at least guess, why they're at the hospital.
I walk into the gift shop at 9:00 am and use my key to open the metal gates that are just waking. They screech and hollar that I've disturbed their peace as I raise them over my head and switch on the lights. All the cheesy, over-priced gifts smile at me and say good morning. I smile politely like I always do.
My first customer comes in at 9:15. He looks completely exhausted. I name him John. He's here with his wife, who's been in labor for 17 hours. John's not here to buy anything; he simply needs a break. He's been holding his wife's hand for so long that the fingers on his left hand are tingling. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fist. The bags under his eyes are almost growing visibly before my eyes. I want to say, "Hey it'll be over before you know it. My first labor, with eva, was 26 hours long. But as soon as she was in my arms, it felt like only minutes. Your baby will be worth the wait."
But, as always, I remain silent; the conversation is only occuring in my head. John catches my eye and nervously grabs a bag of candy, purchases it, and rushes back to his wife's side.
I spend the next hour sketching John, the worried, soon-to-be father, in my sketch book. I try to remember every detail I can from our brief, yet telling, meeting. It might seem odd that I do this with all my interesting customers, but I don't think it's odd at all. I create their lives in order to breathe life into myself.
So there it is so far. Let me know what you think.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Blackout Game and Deep-Dish Pizza
Yesterday was the U's "Blackout Game" against Wyoming. Kraig hates when I always want to take pictures but he relented for just a few.
But he still pulls faces...
The stadium looked so cool with everyone wearing black.
We do better with pictures if we're both not trying too hard to smile, but just pulling faces.
Kraig has been wanting to find a specialty that he could perfect in the kitchen and brag about. So tonight was his first attempt at Chicago-style deep-dish pizza. And it was amazing!!! Here are a couple pictures.
He made this all from scratch! He's pretty amazing, good job babe!
But he still pulls faces...
The stadium looked so cool with everyone wearing black.
We do better with pictures if we're both not trying too hard to smile, but just pulling faces.
Kraig has been wanting to find a specialty that he could perfect in the kitchen and brag about. So tonight was his first attempt at Chicago-style deep-dish pizza. And it was amazing!!! Here are a couple pictures.
He made this all from scratch! He's pretty amazing, good job babe!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Oh Halloween
Kraig and I are kind of in-betweeners this year.
We are just recently married so we don't really have married friends that we hang out with, most of our friends are single and on the prowl, and we don't have kids yet. So I'm at a loss as for what we should do for Halloween. There's a U of U football game, which we will go to. But that will be ofer at 9 or 9:30. We don't want to go to all the single people parties, we don't have any married people parties to go to, and we don't have kids to take around trick-or-treating.
So what do we do?
We'll probably just rent a Halloween movie at home. Or perhaps go to a haunted house. Who knows.
But I'm really going to miss getting all dressed up. I love love LOVE Halloween! Last year I dressed up as a punk rocker.
The year before I was Audrey Hepburn (and a dang good one, if I say so myself).
This year I guess I'll be an old married wife.
We are just recently married so we don't really have married friends that we hang out with, most of our friends are single and on the prowl, and we don't have kids yet. So I'm at a loss as for what we should do for Halloween. There's a U of U football game, which we will go to. But that will be ofer at 9 or 9:30. We don't want to go to all the single people parties, we don't have any married people parties to go to, and we don't have kids to take around trick-or-treating.
So what do we do?
We'll probably just rent a Halloween movie at home. Or perhaps go to a haunted house. Who knows.
But I'm really going to miss getting all dressed up. I love love LOVE Halloween! Last year I dressed up as a punk rocker.
The year before I was Audrey Hepburn (and a dang good one, if I say so myself).
This year I guess I'll be an old married wife.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Ingrid Michaelson
On Saturday, October 17th, Kraig and I went to the Ingrid Michaelson concert at In The Venue. It was AMAZING! She is absolutely perfect, brilliant, fabulous, inspiring. I was in awe the whole time. And she is hilarious! I took a couple of videos and will show them to you for your own viewing and listening pleasure.
In this video Ingrid is doing a little intro story to her song "Once Was Love". She was catering to the young kids in the audience by making the story about a doll. She is hilarious!
Ingrid singing Everybody.
If any of you have never listened to Ingrid...please start now.
In this video Ingrid is doing a little intro story to her song "Once Was Love". She was catering to the young kids in the audience by making the story about a doll. She is hilarious!
Ingrid singing Everybody.
If any of you have never listened to Ingrid...please start now.
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