Genius

I often write little snippets of a post when the idea crosses my mind and then write the rest when I have time later in the day. Occasionally a few will get forgotten, meaning that I have a random assortment of, well, randomness. 

I was checking through my old ideas the other day and I came upon a title that looked interesting. All it said was 'Genius'. And that's it. Nothing was written under it, it was simply the title. Now I wonder, what was so genius? Was it a sarcastic use of genius or a creative genius or a genius idea or a straight up person that I met that I thought was a genius?I mean, it must have been good because I was going to write a whole post about it. I'm wracking my brain trying to remember what I was thinking of, but just as an idea formulates in my head, it vanishes. And once again I'm left contemplating this mystery of life.

It's funny how things can seem so important at a moment in time, but looking back, they are so unimportant that they are forgotten. But still.

What was so genius? It's still bugging me.

If anyone has any ideas, let me know.

m(r)

What Time Is It?

Where am I? Why are the lights so bright? Why is everything I'm saying coming out as a question? 

I just looked at the clock. It's 6:30am and I've been up studying for an hour. For you who are reading this early in the morning, that means my alarm went off at 5:30am. Why, you ask? I'm trying to figure that out myself. I think it has something to do with the fact that I went to bed last night very confused with the accounting information that I'm going to be tested over in . . . 3 1/2 hours. 3 1/2 hours that include getting ready, eating breakfast, and taking another test. 

 Excuse me while I go to cry. 

Okay. I'm back. And here's what I know: God is always in control. I got to sleep for several hours last night. My mom loves me. My accounting professor doesn't hate me. I'm wearing a comfy sweatshirt.  Morning breath can be eradicated by brushing my teeth. Grades, while important, are not a life and death situation. I will get through these tests. My birthday is less than two months away. I have fingers to type. I have a brain that can think. I can wear cute shoes today. 

Ya see that? God is in control and He has put way too many blessings in my life for me to drown in anxiety over tests. Victory! I still need to study for my tests though. You know, God can bless studying too.

The lights in this study lounge are very bright. Too bright for this early in the morning. Just so you know. 

m(r)

Doctor?

I think I got a piece o' brain lodged in me head. 

I've been studying for several hours over the same material and it's started to lodge itself into my head. A good thing, I suppose, but painful nonetheless. My dear blog is currently helping me relieve the stress of study, but soon I will have to go back to carefully inserting knowledge into my thick skull. 

I'm actually very pleased with my state of stress right now. Oh, it's not good to be stressed normally, but for me, it is good. Because you see, I haven't felt very stressed this semester and when I don't feel stressed, I don't feel an urgent need to study. And when I don't feel an urgent need to study . . .theee studying, she doesn't a-get a-done-ah.(That was me speaking in Italian in that last phrase...just in case you missed it. You should read it again to get the full effect. Also, you can picture crazy hand gestures and waving, which will help with the full effect.)

So you see, it's good for me to be a teensy bit stressed because it means I will scare myself into studying really hard. Which, while it isn't fun, is very profitable for my GPA. Plus I get more out of the classes that I'm paying for. As one friend put it, Why would you buy a cheeseburger (a class) and then throw it away (skip class, don't study) instead of eating it (being diligent)? I don't know about you, but when I buy myself a double cheeseburger, no ketchup, extra pickles, I do NOT throw it away. I immediately scarf it down as if I haven't eaten in 3 years. If only our classrooms smelled like burgers....

And so ends my study break. It was fun while it lasted, but General Psychology calls to me from the dark recesses of my backpack.

Now I'm craving a double cheeseburger.

m(r)

Carol of the Bells

I have been playing handbells since 7th grade. I played in a choir all through high school, competed in competitions, played solos, played in ensembles, and now that I'm in college, I'm still in a bell choir.

I love it.

There are a lot of reasons why I enjoy it, but I think the thing I love most about bells is Christmas music. You can't tell me that Carol of the Bells sounds better with any other instrument. The clear sound of the bells combined with the sentimental tunes of Christmas songs is just so stinkin' gorgeous.

No matter what songs we played in high school, the Christmas songs were always my favorite. The beautiful, haunting rendition of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel was definitely one of the best, but I also loved our version of Sleigh Ride complete with jingle bells and slapstick.

This Christmas, my choir is having an "Ugly Sweater Christmas Concert". It's going to be grand! We're all going to buy 'ugly' Christmas sweaters and play a lot of popular, classic Christmas music. This includes Marshmallow World, Here Comes Santa Clause, the Christmas Song, the March of the Nutracker, Dance Trepak, the Christmas Waltz, and I'll Be Home for Christmas.

What this means is that we're started practicing this music as soon as school started. So every time I go to bells, I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia about Christmas time. There's just something about Christmas. It's inexplicable, but I think we all feel it. It's the best feeling in the world, but at the same time, it makes me think of home. And I'm not at home. Basically, this means I tear up every Tuesday and Thursday when we play 'I'll Be Home for Christmas'.

But I still love it. I'm so excited for this Christmas concert and the clear sound of the higher bells on the Christmas Song will definitely have you in an emotional, nostalgic mess by the end of our concert. So y'all should come. I'll be glad to see you there. And you'll be glad you came.

Dec. 4th
7 p.m.
Bob Jones University, SAS Assembly Room

I said it already, but . . . I love Christmas. And I love handbells.

m(r)

I'm Not a Poet and I'm Not Japanese

Here are the three F's of college fun.

Friends
Food
Fellowship

I'm so inspired, I shall write a haiku. Or two. Prepare yourself for bad poetry. Or just don't read any farther into the post. Yeah, that's a good idea.

College students come
together and they eat food
that's not always good

Rising and falling
Their voices mingle with words.
And also laughter.

Slurping red Jello
While laughing at a story
Creates a red mess

Topics are changing
faster than Greenville weather
My mind gets confused

Leave chairs and tables
Full and happy, you look back
Sad to see it end.

m(r)

Captured

After years and years of my mom asking me to watch Jane Eyre with her, I finally agreed to watch it. Granted, I am 15 hours away from her right now, therefore ruining any pleasure she might have of actually watching it with me, but I am nevertheless watching it.

I was determined not to like it. I was determined to be as freaked out as ever by the crazy wife. I was determined to bemoan the fact that for 4 hours I was expected to watch people who were not good looking. I mean, come on. All the other movies use handsome actors and beautiful actresses to draw our attention in. Not Jane Eyre though. I was determined. But then, I started watching it and I got 1 1/2 hours in. And I had to stop watching to get back to campus. And I couldn't stop thinking about that darn movie.

I wanted to know what happened. I wanted to know why Jane Eyre was put through all sorts of depressing things as a child and had no family left. I wanted to know what made her love Mr. Rochester. I wanted to know what is was about plain little Jane that made Mr. Rochester love her. Why is the house so creepy?? That's what I really wanted to know.

Then I saw another hour of it and had to again come back to campus without finishing. It's killing me, man. Jane and Mr. Rochester have finally decided that they are really in love and they're going to get married! But I know. I know. I know that there is a crazy wife hidden in the attic and she is going to pop out at the worst moment possible to ruin any chance of happiness that couple had. And then she's going to burn everything down. But after that, I don't know. I never paid enough attention. Why didn't I pay attention?!

But here's what I love. Mr. Rochester has gone through so many trials. Many of his own making, mind you, but he truly is the tortured soul. But when Jane comes and hears his tales of his dark days, she offers no pity, no judgment, just understanding. Because she has experienced terrible things too. That's when he begins to love her. And she begins to love him, because he's her friend, and she doesn't have any other friends. She loves him for him. Not for his money, definitely not for his looks, because, let me tell ya, they are lackin' in the crackin'. Their love is sweet and I'm glad I could end at that part for tonight at least.

But like I said, I know that there's a crazy wife lurking. I hate lurking crazy wives. They need to go away.

This movie has sucked me in and captured my attention. I hope I'm not disappointed when it ends. If I ever get to the end...

A Day at the Fair

The fair is a veritable smorgasbord, smorgasbord
After the day has gone
Each night when the lights go out
It can be found, on the ground, all around….
That’s where a rat can glut, glut, glut, GLUT!




I really don’t like Charlotte’s Web. A story about a fainting pig and a talking spider never really appealed to me, okay? However, I do agree with Templeton on this one point. The fair is a veritable smorgasbord. I had the pleasure of attending the SC State Fair yesterday. Yes, the fair had an art show, a beauty pageant (amidst all the cows…it really was an ethereal setting for a beauty pageant), COWS, pig races, and a Ferris wheel, but the main attraction was definitely the food. It was everywhere, as far as the eye could see. Just walking on to the fairgrounds, you could smell the grease of the deep fat fryers in overdrive. I think the people that run the food part of the fair must have a big meeting at the beginning of each season. They gather together in a large conference room in their business suits, carrying their large briefcases full of important business. They sit at a long wooden table in comfortable chairs, pulling out their Macs to gather the main points of the meeting. The head of the committee stands up and introduces the agenda for the meeting. Surprisingly, there is only one item. It is in fact, the only item that is ever on the agenda. He hands out a sheet of paper to every person to gather their ideas. Everyone looks down at the paper and nods, realizing the importance of the question. At the top of each page this is written:

What haven’t we breaded and deep fat fried?

And then all those high powered individuals write down their ideas. Candy bars, cookie dough, large chunks of bread dough, Oreos, many other random objects, and of course, butter.

How do you eat fried butter? And what in the fat world does it taste like?? Probably, fat.

There are some wonderful delicacies that can really only be enjoyed at the fair. Snow cones, caramel and candied apples, funnel cakes, and cotton candy are just a few. Pretzels, popcorn, corndogs, and French fries are also easily accessible in the maze of food stands. However, there is one thing at the fair that I have to say I would never try. NEVER. It’s called a doughnut burger, and it is literally a hamburger (with bacon and cheese) with two Krispy Kreme doughnuts as the bun. TWO KRISPY KREME DOUGHNUTS AS THE BUN. Did you catch that? Two. Krispy Kreme. Doughnuts. As. The. Bun. I watched them make a few, and it was enough to make me swear off doughnuts for the rest of my life. Ok. Just the rest of the day, but still. It was fairly disgusting. I don’t think you’ll ever see that at McDonalds. But you never know. We sat beside a man who was just finishing off his uber weird burger and we of course had to ask him what he thought of it.

“It’s really good if you’re into the whole sweet and salty thing. I think I’ll make them when I get home. But don’t eat very many of them. They’ll give you diabetes.”

You heard it here first, folks. I never would have thought that greasy meat and deep fat fried, sugary glazed dough could lead to something bad, but apparently, it does. Diabetes.

Really though, the fair was fun! The pig races were funny, the swing ride was refreshing, the snow cone was delicious, and the whole atmosphere sucks you in. It almost feels like stepping back to a time where the fair was the highlight of the year and you prepared all year for it. Growing your pumpkins till they weighed 380 lbs and raising that perfect cow to show at the fair. Riding to the top of the Ferris wheel with your sweetheart, and prayin’ that it gets stuck at the top, eating till you were sick all those things that your mama would never allow you to eat at home, and loving every minute of it. That’s the joy of the fair.

It's a Small, Small World

You know those times when you hear a story, and it just makes you say, "Wow. It's a small world."

Maybe you just abbreviate and say, "Small world."

Maybe you're a skeptic and abbreviate further to say, "Spooky."

Or maybe all you can get out after the magnitude of the story is a head nod and wide eyes.

Whatever type of person you are, do you know what I'm talking about? Hopefully you do, because I'm going to share my 'small world' story about my friend Sammie and me. You may have heard it, but if you haven't . . . it's a good story.

Once upon a time, I was a very shy 4 yr old who lived in Atlanta, Georgia. I was at church one day and there happened to be a new family there with a rambunctious 5 yr old daughter. My parents were trying to reach out to visitors, so my mom waited till after the church service and then went to invite the new family over to our house for lunch. She's having a nice conversation with the mom when she notices me out of the corner of her eye. I'm talking with the 5 yr old. And I'm not just talking, I'm talking. I mean, hand gestures, giggles, raised voice, and funny intonations. To fully realize the shock that this gave my mother you would have to realize that I was very very shy as a little kid. I hated talking to people. HATED it. I almost dreaded church because of all the people there. My mom actually told me later that she feared I would be anti-social and never learn to converse easily with people.

Anyways, back to my conversation with the 5 yr old Sammie. As soon as my mom saw the interaction, she knew that she had to get me around this girl more. And boy, did she ever. Maybe it's just my lack of time-actuality as a kid, but I seem to remember being over at Sammie's house or vice versa at least once a week. I loved Sammie. She could get me to do the craziest things, and she was so loud and happy all the time, and she had an amazing imagination. I would have lived with Sammie. Would've packed up my glow-in-the-dark bunny and camped out underneath her bed.

Then I finished 1st grade, and my parents broke the news to me . . . we were moving.

I was devastated. I remember crying myself to sleep several nights in a row. Even the most fun thing ever, staying 3 days at Sammie's house, was marred by the fact that my parents were only letting me stay there while they looked for a house in Missouri. Where in the fat world was Missouri anyway?!

The day came for us to leave. Sammie's family came to help us pack, along with several other families in the church. We had so much fun trying to pick the lock of the moving truck, and hitchhiking in front of my house, and eating a lot of pizza. And then we left. And I cried. And held my glow-in-the-dark bunny. Seven was too young to have to leave my best friend.

I saw Sammie again though. Her family actually moved to Virginia a month or two after we left, so my mom and I flew out for a day trip to visit. So much fun. And once, that next year, they stopped by our house for a few hours on their way to grandparents in Iowa. But after that, we lost contact. I didn't hear from Sammie for 8 years.

Fast forward 8 years... I'm a sophomore in high school at Bob Jones for AACS National competition.

We had done well in handbells at competition. I was 16. I loved my friends, my school, and I had learned how to talk to just about anyone. Now I was sitting with my school for the final awards ceremony. They were announcing flute solo winners. A girl's named flashed up who I knew and I leaned over to my friend beside and whispered, "oh hey, I know her." Then came violin solo winners. 3rd place, 2nd place . . . then they came to 1st place. And I saw Sammie's name appear on the screen. My Sammie. My best friend from childhood. The person I still told stories about. And she was right there walking on the stage. I wanted to leap out of my chair and run up to her or yell out her name or, or Something!!! But I couldn't. Because we were in an awards ceremony and decorum dictated that I do and say nothing except for clap. So I clapped. Really hard. And then she walked 4 rows in front of me. I couldn't say anything. I thought I would bust. I saw where she went to sit and I marked that spot. As soon as the ceremony was over, I was going to run there.

Just then, my handbell director leaned down the row and whispered, "We're going to take pictures immediately after this."

What?! NO!!

I leaned back down and whispered, "There's someone here who I haven't seen in 8 years. Could I go see her first? Please?"

She said no and I ended up not seeing Sammie. I wish I knew what happened to her.





Kidding! She said I could go. As soon as the amen of the last prayer was uttered, I was running over to Sammie's section. I found her parents and they were excited to see me, asking if Sammie had seen me yet. When they found out that she hadn't, they led me that way, keeping me behind them. Then her dad said, 'Hey Sammie, we have a surprise for you!"

She turned around as they stepped away, so I was visible. She didn't even pause for a second. She immediately attacked me with a hug and a scream.

It was the best. I was so happy that night. My parents got phone messages from both of us later that night, as we breathlessly half-screamed into the phone that we had seen each other.

Sometimes I meet people who I use to be close to, but we've both grown and changed, and so we don't have anything in common anymore. But not Sammie. After Nationals, we exchanged phone numbers and called each other at random intervals. We met up at Nationals for the next 2 years. And then we both ended up at the same college, in the same dorm, on the same hall. I lost my best friend as a kid, but I found her so she could be one of my best friends in college. And you know what they say... the friends you make in college will stick with you for the rest of your life.

The End.