Almost holiday time. :)

It is one week until Christmas. Which is good.

Except, I'd forgotten how hard it could be to wait for Christmas....

Especially if everyone has gone home to their families except for you. (and a grumpy roommate that hates your guts.)

Being stuck here isn't really my favorite.

because I'm lonely,

and hungry,

and out of food.

Plus, if that's not bad enough, the water's been shut off due to a leak. From now on, if I have to wash my hands, brush my teeth, or pee- I'll have to trek through snow, cold and moldy dead leaves to get to the nearest working bathroom.

up hill both ways. (ok, not really.)

On the bright side... its only thee more days until I can leave.

and the only reason I'm here is because I've been blessed with a job- which is paying for my school, and my home (which at least has heat- if not water.) and the food that I hopefully will soon have...

Plus I'm pretty sure that once I'm home- this will be the most fantastic Christmas Break ever- Time with my family (FINALLY!), a trip to see my dad, a date with an intriguing gentleman, cookies, a Christmas tree that survived a recent wind storm, Christmas Music, a visit to the bird refuge with my most favorite person ever, and time to watch LOST.

(yes. I confess. I've allowed myself to start watching LOST. which could be really bad.. considering the rumors that it's the most addicting show on the planet... eep!)

Anywho. I'm pretty sure I'll survive.

Improvement.

I kind of have this habit of worrying a lot.

like- to the point of ridiculousness.

Its almost like I've convinced myself that if I waste my time worrying about something long enough, it's less likely to happen- or that if I think about a problem to the point of almost making myself sick- then it'll somehow vanish and get better.

I think I'm living a delusion...

And its not like this is a new thing- Even when I was really little, people told me I worried too much. For example: at the age of 5, I went to my mother with a very serious question.

"Mommy? Does having babies hurt?"

Apparently, not only do I worry excessively, but also a lot in advance...

By now, you are probably thinking I'm some sort of mental case, and that I ought to get help or counseling or something-But for the record- I have gotten better!!

Promise.

Because about a year ago- i had an epiphany. thanks to a good friend and a comic strip.

It was lunch time- I was eating a peanut butter sandwich in Luke's car, and worrying. and he knew I was worrying- He has this theory, that I always scratch my knee when I'm stressed; Which is only right part of the time. most of the time. He pointed this out- and at first I denied it, but then he started laughing, and then I got all defensive-which kind of made it all come out..

"What if I never see you again after high school?! Will we be able to stay friends? What If I can't make new friends, and Logan never talks to me,and my roommate hates me? What if I can't even get into college? What if I fail the studio art Test? If I fail then I can't go into art-and that's all that I'm good for, and now I'll have to go live in a card board box! GOSH, even if I do get into a school- how on earth am I going to pay for it?? My whole life is doomed!"

at this point, I was out of breath, close to tears, and had practically scratched a hole in my pant leg.

Luke chuckled.

"Have you ever read Pickles?"

"huh?"

"The comic strip- It made me think of you."

Thanks Luke. Thanks.

On the bright side though- It kind of helped me realize how silly it is to worry all the time. I need to give myself a break.

I'm seeing a pattern here...

I just met another strange man in the library. 

It was the typical "Oh, hello, care if I sit here?" type of thing- followed by five minutes of ignoring each other, before a"So, What are you working on?" and a "What was your name again?"

Again? did I say my name before?

He then decided we were friends.

This is the Fourth time this has happened. (Except I can't really count one of them because it happened on a bus, instead of  at the library.) I hope this isn't becoming a habit...

Its not like I ask for it! I'll just be sitting there, minding my own business- when suddenly-
  "Hey there! Judging by the giant textbook and concentrated look on your face, you must be dying for a conversation! let me just take a chunk out of your study time for some lively conversation!"

To be quite honest, in the past, underneath all the oddness- I found it flattering.

However, I've since realized there are only two likely outcomes for something like this, and none of them desirable: 

1. He falls madly in "like" with you, when you aren't at all interested, and ends up trying (or succeeding) in dragging you along with him to a Halloween Party, or Rock climbing... or something. And then you feel bad. Because he isn't your type. or because he sort of kind of reminds you of this kid you used to hate...
2. He finds out you're a Freshman. The end.

(For the record though, it is possible to get a combination of the two- it usually results in a fantastic misunderstanding and you feeling stupid... that's the worst kind.)

Luckily for me in this instance- today was a case #2.

Case #2's always play out the same way.

Always.

"So, What are you majoring in?"

"Art. I'm thinking Illustration."

"Oh that's neat- I'm majoring in blablabla."

(in this instance it was psychology.)

"That sounds interesting / crazy / cool."

"Yeah... I graduate next month / I'm getting my masters / Just got back from my mission.

How long have you been at Utah State?"

This is when I know how the conversation is going to end. every time.

"Oh, this is my first year."

"Oh really? So you're a freshman?" (smile faltering a little)

"Yeah..."

"Did you just graduate high school...?"

"Yup."

(sheepish look completely replaces smile.) 

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

...Silence...

"Well, I've got to be going. It was nice talking to you."

"yup."

Every time.

My cousin had a pretty good solution for this. "Just pretend you thought they were a freshman too."

  "Oh, Really? so you're a freshman?"

"Wait- are you not? So, like you're old?... awkward."

I considered it... But then I remembered that most guys are as sensitive about being called young as they are about their receding hairlines. Plus, I have this absolutely ridiculous case of "Crap, now i have Guilt for being mean.." Good thought though.

Anywho. I think need some comfort food and a good movie. My self esteem is suffering.

I am Thankful.

Life is good. :)

and I 'm glad.

and seeing as today is Thanksgiving- this is my thankful list:

I'm Thankful...

• That I have a loving home to come back to. 
• That I have parents to set strong examples for me.
• That My Heavenly Father Loves me.
• For my comfy "home bed" 
• The Friends who make me smile.
• That the things that don't work out always make room for better things.
• For the Yellow Submarine movie.
• For an baby sister to cuddle with.
• For a best friend that can make anything fantastic. (even taxi-cabbing siblings.)
• That my cat, George, finally let me pet him.
• That my Shoobie lets me tell her stories 24/7.
• That my brother always has something to say.
• For pie.
• For grandparents slides. (even the sideways ones that give you a kink in the neck.)
• For the rotate picture button on computers.
• For Letters.
• That my cousins are the coolest on the planet.
• For Dreams
• For the Seasons
• That I can watch red-neck tv shows with my step-dad.
• That Mom still makes me email Santa.
• For an aunt that thinks of everything. (she bought Tupperware so all of the college students could take leftovers back to school. Yes!)
• for having access to a car.
• For the temporary escape holiday breaks provide.
• For Memories.
• For Laughing
• That I don't have to worry too much about being a cat lady.
• For Duct Tape.
• for the game Catch phrase
• For spontaneous decisions
• For people who change your life without even knowing it.
• For inspiration.

And pretty much a lot more stuff than I can write... :)

Herman.

The other day, I had this sudden burning desire to donate money to small businesses in Africa by throwing expensive paper airplanes.

... Or something like that.

The business department was putting on some fundraiser- and I found myself being sucked into it. yeah I admit- I didn't go because of the good feeling I would get giving money to a good cause. I mostly just wanted to throw airplanes. and see the people that would be there.

ok. mostly the second one.

And I guess I have this bad habit of dragging my friends along with me on my ventures- "It'll be great fun!" "We'll be pro!" and "I don't want to go all by my lonesome" are common phrases used. All in all, Its a good thing I have a supportive Abbie. She kindly agreed to meet me there.

I got there a little early, thinking I could stop at the marketplace to eat beforehand- but then found out there would be no effective way to do that without being seen by the "Airplaners." I felt pretty stupid- ("Oh gosh- now I just seem over excited.. Um, I really like paper? yeah, no one is going to buy that...") So I hid in the bathroom, a really logical solution.(except for not...)

Hiding in bathrooms is great. After the initial feeling of "Oh goodie, I've escaped!"- you kind of feel like a moron. Especially when you scream because your cell phone startles you.

"Hey, I'm here."

Abbie's ring tone is me singing the Harry Potter theme. I recorded it in a highschool parking lot.

"Hi. I was just in the bathroom" heh heh, cough... "Be out in a sec."

Thus the throwing adventure begins.

First off, it turns out I'm really awful at making airplanes- no thanks to Google. Abbie suggested I try making one with wings. Good plan. However, I wasn't about to spend another dollar to make a new one. "Maybe I just need practice throwing it?" (translation: Lets get out of here before that boy over there sees me. and my crappy airplane.) Cue sneaky escape towards the stairs- "Hey! Shawna!"

crap.

"Ohh, Hey."

At this point I realized two things:

1. My escape had been foiled once again.
2. Its really easy to become distracted by a man's mustache.

"You aren't leaving are you? have you thrown your plane yet?" 

"um. I was just going to practice." For any of  you who know me- "practicing" happens a lot in my life.

"Ok, you do that. Hurry back though!"

So, then I was stuck. Luckily, thanks to Abbie's paper airplane skills (aquired from a contest as a 7 year old. She's pretty much great.) a few last minute adjustments were made to my plane. I like to think this is the reason I didn't fail as much as I could have.

Meaning i still did. fail.

I threw it, It hovered for a moment, then spiraled downward, crash-landing two feet from where I had been standing.

ouch.

it doesn't help that lots of people were there to witness it. or that I have a way of awkwardly yelling "NO!" when i mess up. Or that mustache man happened to be talking into a microphone when he said "Nice try, Shawna!"...

My pride had crashed along with the airplane.

But Its all good. After trying and failing at two more airplanes, (more good for Africa, right?) Abbie and I went home and watched Charade. The combination of Audry Hepburn, Cary Grant, Popcorn, and a good friend are enough to make anything better. 

Thoughts:

1. Don't trust everything Google says.
2. You can, in fact, judge a man by his mustache
3. "Don't be piggy Herman."

I get why ostriches burry their heads in holes...

Oh, Hi. you can call me awkward. 

I've always been pretty great at talking to strangers- much to my parents dismay. I meet great ones everywhere- on the bus, when wandering around churches, in the library, while crying on park benches, when crossing the street, during dinner, in art galleries...

But Please, Tell me- Why is it so easy to talk to them, and so incredibly difficult to talk to someone you actually know??

"yeah, um... sorry, but I seem to have misplaced my verbal communication skills. let me stare awkwardly at my lap, or at the ceiling, or at your face when you talk to me..."

"You going home for thanks giving?"

"..... yeah..."

"Oh that's fun."

"...yeah.... oh, um what about you?"

"Probably to my grandparents house. but its a lot of gas to get there, and I don't know if I want to drive in this weather..."

"..... oh.... um yeah.... Bye."

*mentally hits self in forehead for being such a goob.*

sometimes I wonder how I manage to keep friends.

Yesterday, I went to stake conference with my family. My sister suddenly nudged me in the arm- " Is that Allen?" I looked around, and surprise it was! My long lost skater-artist friend was going to the row behind us.

"Say hi to him!" she whispered. I nodded, then tried to make eye contact- when I suddenly got this stupid worry that it was really his twin brother Adam. So, instead of saying hi like a normal person when he was in good view, I waited until he was walking right behind me- you know so i could get a closer look at him. The ending result was me almost head butting him in the stomach as I leaned my head back to look at his face. Our eyes met awkwardly, I whispered "Allen?" and he sat down without saying anything.

 Oh Gee.

"One of these things is not like the other."

Hot chocolate with the girls on my floor. Cool. ish.

They're nice- but I can't help but feel like something isn't quite clicking.

I  don't squeal-giggle. (laugh-giggles are different.)

I haven't made out with countless boys.

I don't care if "Sally" kissed "Jim", while she was dating "Bob". (I don't know them anyway.)

If I like a guy- It'll last for more than two weeks.

I don't giggle over how "Marge's" hair looked.

I cry during stupid parts in movies.

The last time I held someone's hand- I meant it.

I'd rather color than go man hunting.

Maybe I'm weird.

Whatever.

Not very many people.

"Not very many people's shoe laces match their scarves." he said.

I took it as a compliment. because I'm not very many people. 

Yesterday, although I woke up exhausted*, I also woke up with a newly found bout of confidence. (Finally! Where have you Beeen??) Why shouldn't I be happy with myself? I can whistle, doodle, and pull off a rainbow scarf quite nicely- As a friend of mine recently said, "If that's not enough for someone- then they're missing out!"

so there.

 

*(staying up past midnight two nights in a row is not recommended. unless it involves a very much needed Skype conversation with a best friend.)

Hi. I'm confused.

So, I'm sitting here. On my friend's grandma's couch. At two in the morning.

Why?

My life just works like that.

Not that I'm complaining or anything- I'm sure many people would love to start their first blog amidst sleeping friends, orange carpet, and the stress of trying to register for spring semester classes when the website's backed up....
The creepy grandfather clock adds a nice touch too.

Anyway. nice to meet you.