Entry Twenty-Six

Didn't I say so?

Here I am again.

Apparently this is all I have to do with my free time.

Guess who had a the idea about vampires that don't eat humans before Stephanie Meyer? The writers of Supernatural.

2008 is almost over.

Entry Twenty-Five

I've decided that consistency is unnecessary.

You can't catch me.

There should be two today.

Entry Twenty-Four

24. Amazing show. Not the last season so much. Everyone has their flukes.

I bite my lip too much. I think it could become a problem. That and the fact that Alice is still resisting. Is functioning too much to ask?

Ow. It hurts. She hurt me, he hurt me, I hurt myself. But for the most part the wounds are superficial. I haven't been cut deep in a long time. Something for which I am grateful.

There are several benefits to a break from classes. One is the relax time. Another would be the pressure taken off the brain. I find that my mind cooperates more when it isn't being bombarded.

I can get some things written.

"Technological progress is like an axe in the hands of a pathological criminal."

That is not me. That is good old Albert. What an amazing guy. I think it would have been cool to know him.

Entry Twenty-Three

As long as I am listing things that I am in love with, I will add Supernatural to the list. It is my one guilty pleasure.

Alice is dead. Not dead, but dying. Her face is cracked, her eye-lids get tangled. They wont last much longer. Today she started crying. This caused a lot of problems. In defiance, she cut me. She now lies dormant in the Sears/Dillards parking lot. What am I going to do?

I kept my goal.

Thank goodness it's the time of year when sleep is all relative. Lose a couple hours at night, you have time to get them back during the day.

They are both so young! I'm trying real hard to get over it.

And his hair is so short.

Just about time to slumber.

Day two...lets make it three. You'll get tired of me soon.

Entry Twenty-two

I cant stop hitting the 'm' key tonight. I also cant stop falling in love with this Mexican band SiNo.

Who wouldn't love a band with such a contradictory name?

She is of two minds. I decided this a long time ago. How did it morph from the connections of people to the comatic (yes I just made up a word to take the place of the adjective "comatose". I like mine better anyway) insanity of a tragic heroin? I know you have to let it take you where it wants to go, but seriously? I'm not sure it has the slightest clue as to where its finaly destination lies.

Time for another from another country. They call themselves the Wombats. How fun.

A bathroom sounds like a good idea. Then it's time for gray matter to take a rest. Tomorrow has to happen. It is my goal and in more than one way. If only I were strong. And dont even think about pretending you know me. No one does 100%. I garuntee that. Not even me. And that is the sad thing. Everyone else is finding themselves. I just sit here and allow ideals to crash over me. I have visions and dreams of the person I could allow mysef to become. But who has that kind of pixy dust?

Now, to the place where you cant help but feel either relaxed or relieved...aka your bathroom (and not public bathrooms at all. They are two-hundred percent feeling awkward ad uncomfortable.)

I say yes. This was good. More and I can bulid a mountain of what no one will understand in the future.

Buy Menan! Did I do that right?

Entry Twenty-One

This is what I call "Sarah Taking the Plunge". I never seem to take the time to just take an idea and go with it. I'm pretty sure that I spend most of my time simply overthinking things. I write with the intent to be perfect. Writig is rarely if ever perfect in the first stages. I usually put the first stages in a notebook. Then I tweak and SOMETIMES transfer here. I've seen all the good thats done me. How far have I gotten with that method? Almost nowhere. So this is the plan. I'm going to start typing and see where it takes me. I'm not sure where I'm going to start or stop or even what the destination is. Just know that it pertains to my more promising project Bus Stories. I have decided that Spero will just have to be put on the shelf until it's breakthrough comes along. I hope you enjoy my flurry of posting lately. It probably wont happen again. I also hope that you enjoy my attemts at getting something out there. I'm tired of running in place with the story.

Here it goes...Hold your breath.

I was first aware of a rush of slience that left my ears roaring. But only for a split second. Then to my left there was a soft beep. It was shortly followed by another, and then another. Each beep followed the one before it in a steady pattern. Like a strict regiment of soldiers keeping a slow cadence. I decided it was a good time to open my eyes. I saw a white sea with little pricks of darkness. Everything smelled like a doctors office. Too perfectly clean. I looked on my right. There was my arm and in it there was a needle. My throat closed up and the beeping picked up the pace. The pricks followed my gaze and turned to white spots as I closed my eyes again. I took several deep breaths. Assesment: I was in a hospital and they had me hooked up to an I.V. Hospital I could deal with. I.V.? That was a different matter. Needles were on the top of a very short list titled "things Rebecca cannot handle". Amusing since I had once wanted to be a veterinarian. I watited for the beeping to slow again and the spots to give into total darkness. I decided that it was safe to have another look around the room, this time avoiding my arm. It was a typical hospital room. The lights were kept dim. There were monitering machines to my left where the beeping originated from. There was a tv attached to the wall in one corner. There was a window on the right wall. No sun peeked through the closed blinds so it must still be night. Night. Why was I here anyway? I was too afraid to examine my body further in the chance I would find another needle so I tried moving my limbs. Left leg, right leg, hips. Just as I felt a stab in my left shoulder as I moved it the door to my room opened. In walked a slender brunette wearing flowerd scrubs. She held a clipboard and had a stethoscope around her neck. She looked more like a daytime drama actress than a nurse. I half expected her to say "I'm pregnant with your fathers baby and we share the same mother" or something similar. Instead she said 'Well! It' nice to see you awake miss Brighton. How are you feeling?'

I didn't have a deffinitive answer for her, so I shruged. A mistake because there was the pain in my shoulder. I hissed and winced.

'Oh, that would be your shoulder. Try not to move too much. You've sustained several injuries.'

How, when, and where were some of the questions running through my mind. The one that mattered most at the moment was...

'How?'

She looked at me in surprise.

'You mean you don't remember what happened?'

Not sure if shaking my head would cause pain I answered a simple 'No'. She frowned and took a deep breath. She opened her mouth to speak, but let the breath out instead.

'Let me go find your doctor. I'll be right back.'

Before I could argue she had wisked quietly out of the room. A minute later she came back followed by a large, heavy set man with gray hair and a bushy mustache.

'Miss Brighton! Or would you rather be called Rebecca?' he asked in a higher voice than I would expect out of a man his size.

'Becca is fine,' I answered struggeling to fight my rising unease.

'Alright, Becca. I'm Dr. Jones and this is nurse Alana. How are you feeling?'

I gave as honest an answer as I could knowing as little as I did.

'A bit groggy. Confused.'

Dr. Jones nodded his head and made some marks on the clipboard the nurse had handed him.

'Yes, Alana mentioned that you don't seem to know why you're here. You don't know how you were injured?'

'No. Not really. I'm not even sure how injured I am'

'Oh it's nothing too serious. You dislocated your shoulder, sustained some minor trauma to the left side of your head, a few other bumps and bruises. Whats the last thing that you do remember?'

I thought for a moment.

'Leaving work. Driving home...then here.'

The doctor jotted some more notes. He was silent for a significant stretch. The whole time I could hear the beeping of my heart moniter giving away my mounting fear.

'Dr. Jones, I would rather you just tell me what happened right away. I'm pretty sure the tension is killing me.'

I tried to sound light and unconcered. The oppsite of what I felt. Dr. Jones nodded his head three times. cleared his throat.

'There was a car accident invloving you and another vehicle.'

Entry Twenty

I'm engaged. That in itself would have been weird enough.

More than that it is who I am engaged to. Tall, dark hair a mess, glasses, strong jaw. No...not Harry Potter (though he very well could be the adult version). No, his name is D**** K*****. He teaches my Ecosystem Management class and until now he was just another person that rattled around in my brain.

On top of it all I am acutely aware of how little I know this man. I can't even remember when or how he proposed to me. I wish I could say that I am feeling the normal feelings of a soon to be bride. But it's hard to be sure what you feel when it's all happening so fast.

We are in a large theater. Waiting for the presentation to start. I'm not exactly sure what it's going to be over. I just know that I'm here with Dr. K*****...I mean D****. So it must be something over birds in French Polynesia. I spot someone I know. Sarah Pabst.

Now what is she doing here? I walk into the theater with D**** by my side. I go directly to Sarah who is in the nosebleed section. D**** heads closer to the front. Torn, I follow Dylan and stop him.

"I have a friend sitting up there," I whisper. Why am I whispering? "I think she might need me"I add. D**** does not say a word but takes my hand and lets me lead him the the section where Sarah is. She's not surprised that I am engaged. So why should I be?

There's still this feeling that I should know more about D****. I should remember loving him at one point. Why is this all wrong? We take our seats and the lights dim.

And then I awaken. No wonder everything was off. Since when does life in my dreams make sense? I shake my head and wonder at the strangeness of me being engaged to D**** K*****.

How embarrassing would it be if he could read peoples dreams in their eyes and he saw me being engaged to him.

I admit that I find Dr. K***** attractive, amusing, and I like his outlook on conservation. But he is far too absorbed in his work. I would need to marry someone willing to spend more than a few months in the U.S.A.

Dreams are funny windows into our complicated and shuffled minds.

Entry Nineteen

So here it is. The rough draft for the article that I am writing for Tom Tetzners photography class. So much for getting Bus Stories of the ground. I had an ephinay and that led to an almost complete remorphing of the story. Anyway more on that later. If anyone happens on this blog and decide to read this entry please feel free to give your input. It's possible that this will make it in some sort of Rhode Island newspaper or something of the sort.

The sun begins it's retreat below the horizon casting a rosy hue upon the clouds. Bank Swallows venture out to make an evening snack of the insects hovering above calm waters. The evening choir starts it's warm-up as crickets, cicadas and frogs take up the song. The calls of a few catbirds, a Belted Kingfisher and a Great blue Heron soon join the chorus. The scene is set for a beautiful evening at Trustom Pond National Wildlife Refuge.
In our developing world the beauty seen here is becoming more and more hard to find. The U.S fish ad Wildlife Service devotes itself to the conservation of these protected lands all over the country. It's purpose is to create a balance between nature the it's rapidly changing environment. The key to this balance is breaching the gap between our nations natural habitats and the surrounding communities. What better way to start than with the future generation.
One goal of the Fish and Wildlife Service and the National Refuge System is to instill a sense of the wonder of nature in young minds. The best way to accomplish this is to connect our children directly with the habitats that they will one day help to conserve. The class that Tom Tetzner teaches does exactly that. He combines and active field aspect with the art of photography. This creates an activity that gets kids excited about getting outdoors and interacting with the natural world around them.
This class consists of 2 hour sessions taking place at several of the wildlife refuges located in Rhode Island. I, as an intern for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service was asked by Tom to accompany them to bring a more biological aspect the class. I have only had the chance to accompany them o 4 of these trips. What I have experienced has been priceless. A group of 6-10 children and several adults follow Tom as he takes them from forests and shrublands, to vernal pools and salt ponds. The knowledge he has gained as a former scout master provides the perfect background for the exploration of the ecosystems we enter. I have the privilege of providing Tom with a biological background concerning the plants and animals within them.
It's wonderful to see the children scatter too and fro around the vernal pool at Kettle Pond visitor Center. They excitedly dip their nets into the murky water catching all sorts of critters: Spotted Salamander larvae, wood frog tadpoles ad to everyone’s delight and adult Green Frog. Everyone gathers in a circle as I gently place the freshly caught specimen on the leafy ground. He actually seems to pose as the cameras click and lash. Each child and parent is trying to get the best picture they can before the frog hops away. Plastic bins bearing water are filled with the afternoons fruitful findings. Water beetles, Dragonfly nymphs, salamanders and frogs all swirl in the shallow pools. Not only do the kids get to take pictures of what they see, they get to touch and feel them. This provides them with an exciting hands on experience that they cant seem to stop talking about as we take the trail back to the visitor center.
These kids don't only learn to take picture of wildlife. Tom teaches them about landscape photos and taking shots of the beautiful plant life as we walk the trails at Ninigret Wildlife Refuge. At Ninigret pond they get the take underwater pictures of crabs and jellyfish as well as learn how to fish for clams. Everyone has so much to learn from Tom about photography and about nature. He takes walks just about every day to observe nature and capture it's beauty. The pictures these walks yield are stunning. The knowledge and experience he shares creates a wonderful learning experience for his young students.
Getting people interested in nature and it's conservation is very important to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. The Rhode Island refuge system is lucky to have such and active volunteer program devoted to sharing it's 5 refuges with the world. Tom Tetzners efforts are the mark of a truly devoted volunteer and he hopes in future years to expand his photography class to all ages and further spread a love and appreciation of the natural world around us.

Entry Eighteen

Well, it's been over three months since I last visited this blog. My apologies. But since my reader base for this little site of creative nonsense is rsignificantly smaller than my weekly blog, I feel only a small amout of guilt.

I'm not sure if you know what it's like to have a breakthrough. I find that I often fall into the dull nothingness of writing for writings sake. I have problems getting content worth anything out of the recesses of my brain. It's like a dull match being struck time and time again against a worn down surface. All you get is that sulfur smell and frustation. Suddenly for no apparent reason, you stirke one last time and there is a flare of light. Now I'm trying to light a fire with the kindling that is the weak content of my story, trying to get a blaze started before my match reaches it's end.

I have been trying to mold Bus Stories into something more than just girl randomly on a bus with a bunch of people and they al happen to be going the same place on said bus. It could be a good idea on it's own. But I was getting ready for bed and my match lit. Leave it to a good idea to pop up when you are fluffing your pillow and getting out your scriptures. Your mind can't rest until you've got it down so you don't forget it.

Unfortunatly for those of you who do read this, my breakthrough cannot be shared. I don't want too many people catching sight of my fire too soon. It would make the fireworks at the end much less exciting. Sorry, enough with the fire analogy. The point is, I hope to crank out some writing worthy of a post soon. The irony is that now with all these new ideas in my head I have no idea where to start. With new ideas come new questions and back stories and new problems that I have to work through. Hang in there my small group of followers. If I can just get my brain into gear, I predict that this story will not dissappoint.

-Sarah "trying to be a god writer" Lambson

Entry Seventeen

My problem is I get these good ideas and then as I continue to put things on paper, I write myself into a bore. What I mean is, I am so eager to get to certain places in the story that the stuff in between is dull and uninteresting. I apologize if you this story is no exception. Heres the next part of chapter 1. It's too short. But I just needed to post something. Sorry to my one reader for the dry spell.

In the confines of the city limits I was bound by law to keep my speeds to a minimum. Once I got to the dark, empty ocuntry roads outside town I was free to let loose. I accelerated to barely acceptable speeds when I was out here and tonight was no different. I clutched the steering wheel hard and flipped on my brights. The wind swept over me through the open windows, seeping into my pores. I took deep gulps of the air, as if I had been drowning back in the glare of the city lights and my head had only just broken the surface. I let my mind free out here. I thought of nothing. Not Chris, not my empty apartment, not the inevitable life that rolled out in front of me. Out here, no one cared, no one knew, no one existed but me.
No one except the car coming from the other direction. Too fast, brights blaring, and on the wrong side of the road. It seemed that it took my mind hours before comprehension reared it's terrified head, even with the blaring of horns and the squealing of tires. But eventually a flare of adrenaline and fear jolted me into reality and I jerked my wheel to the left in an attempt to make it to the other lane before I collided with the car. Everything seemed to slow then. The turning of my car, the speed of the other vehicle. The wind even seemed to stop whipping around my face. I was so sure that I was going to avoid and impact and maybe just get stuck in a ditch. No problem. I had already begun to let my breath out when a wrenching jolt sent my car wheeling. Everything exploded. I wash spinning out of control. I slammed on my breaks, ears ringing, and waited for the spinning to stop. It did when my car flipped into the ditch on the side of the road. I felt a searing pain somewhere on my head and quickly lost all sense of awareness.

Entry Sixteen

These days, I spend my time in Statistics and Rural & Agricultural Law writing more of this story. It passes the time quite quickly. Maybe I should spend more time paying attention. but if you were in these classes you would understand. This is the first part of the first chapter. I have a lot more of it, but I don't have time to put it all down. So it will come out in chunks. Enjoy.

It was September 26th. And on this Wednesday of Wednesdays I was just finishing up work. It was 9:00 pm. We'd had to anesthetize two dogs, a pet rabbit and a small kitten today and it had put me in a grimmer mood than usual. I hated having to be the one to tell the parents with their crying kids that they had to pay us for killing their child's best friend. Dr. Morris and Dr. Grey had already gone home, leaving the rest of clean-up to their 24-year-old intern. As was usual at closing, he finished up before I was done filing todays paperwork and preparing for tomorrow. He made his rounds stopping in the overnight holding cages to check on all the animals. He gave the operating room a once over. Then he grabbed his coat and stopped by my desk. I looked up from my paperwork and gave him my most realistic fake smile.
"Hey Chris," I said with a careful amount of politeness. Ever since Dr. Gray had made me aware of Chris's "obvious" infatuation with me I made sure that I kept my friendliness to a minimum. I didn't need him getting the wrong idea. Chris was an uncommonly kind man with an infections smile. He was very good at what he did and was even better at working with the kids who came in afraid that they would leave the vet empty handed. I was constantly impressed by his ability lighten the mood of the room. There was nothing about him that repelled me. Had things been different in my life I probably would be openly flirting with him and we might have already gone on a few casual dates. But as it was with most guys, I was the problem. I was broken and not worth bothering with. At least this was how I felt.
"Still working, huh?" he asked, giving the desk a sweep with his eyes. Judging how much more I had to do. I sighed dramatically.
"Story of my life."
He smiled kindly.
"I'm always impressed by your dedication."
I turned my lips up in a bashful half smile and went back to what I was doing. Dedication. Thats was definitely the wrong word to describe what kept me here. Working had it easier to forget my life and that nothing was waiting for me at home. The longer I was here thinking about tomorrows appointments, the less time I was at my apartment thinking about everything else. I soon realized that Chris was still standing in front of the desk. I looked up and raised my eyebrows.
"Whats up?"
He looked a little uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed. He was fiddling with his black leather gloves. All bad signs.
"Oh! Well, I was just wondering...I mean, I know that you cant have alcohol, but maybe you wanted to go to O'malleys and get some virgin margaritas or something. Or even to Dans Diner for hot chocolate...?"
Here it was. His invitation was innocent enough. Nothing big. But my heart shriveled up in a defensive posture. Drinks could lead to dinner and then to serious dating. Seeing someone was definitely out of the question even if that some one was as nice a Chris. I opened my mouth to toss out my excuse but something stopped me. It was a tiny voice in my head that popped up every once in a while representing the part of me that used to be happy.
"Wait," is said. "He's being nice and getting out would do you some good. He's even willing to work around your...special needs."
I knew deep down that this part of me was right. But this knowledge was very deep down and I knew that the more stubborn part of me was going to win tonight. So I made my excuse.
I smiled apologetically.
"Mmm...sorry. Tonight's not a good night. I haven't seen my mom in ages and I'm going to pay her a visit after I get out of here. I don't want to keep her up too late."
It was lame. Barely believable. But he took it, forcing a smile onto his lips.
"Oh, okay. Cool. Maybe some other time."
"Sure." A nice ambiguous answer.
"Alright...well..." he fidgeted a little more. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, see ya."
He hesitated a fraction of a second then turned and walked out the door. I waited for the sound of his car starting and for his headlight to pull away before relaxing. I passed a weary hand over my eyes. That was close.
"Yeah, you might have actually enjoyed yourself," the small voice in my head said with a bitter sarcasm. With a sigh, I went back to work, taking 15 more minutes before I was finished. After locking the door behind me, I considered what to do with the rest of my night. I could go home, straight to my empty apartment and wallow, watching bad late night T.V.
Or I could let the night take me. The air was autumn sweet and the moon was like a ripened fruit in the sky. The stars above held a secret that they winked out to the world below, beckoning you to find it. deciding their lure was too strong, I hopped in my piece of junk, brought it to a roaring ignition and peeled out of the parking lot.

Entry Fifteen

The first installment of "Bus Stories". I haven;t decided if I want to change the title. I think it works and it pretty straightforward. This is just the basic intro to the story. Not much to go by yet.

“There’s a time in your life where you teeter on the brink of finding yourself. A fragile period where the only way you will get out alive is by the tether you hold to your friends. It is this tether that will direct your feet down the path that you will follow in life. These are the years that are engraved in our minds as the clearest pictures of life. The veil between innocence and the decisions we must all one day make is nothing but a gossamer film covering our eyes. The years we spent here are the most influential years of our ever moving lives. Cherish what you have learned here and never forget.”

I remember listening to the words of our valedictorian from my bedroom television. Watching as the cameras zoomed in on her face dramatically. My college graduation was broadcast on public television for the benefit of those who didn’t want to sit through an hour and ½ of people walking on stage to accept the piece of paper that acknowledge that we served our 4 year sentence. I spent graduation day sitting in my room brooding on the way things had turned out and glad that I wasn’t wasting my time with the ceremony. I had scoffed at the speech the valedictorian dished out to waiting ears of naivety. It wasn’t until several months later that I realized that her words held some truth. Just not in the way she meant or the way that I expected.

In the months following gradation I found in myself a new form of slothfulness. I went to my job. I ate on cue, I never slept in, and I even tried applying for a more permanent career. I kept busy. I was doing what every college graduate was doing that summer. Living life and trying to figure out what to do now. But for me the slothfulness was inside. My soul was dead along with its counterpart, my heart. Summer went by and was followed by fall as always. I became a secretary for a veterinary office. I did my job well and without enthusiasm. I bought an old used car to get around in. I had a small apartment. I was living, but that was it. I wasn’t experiencing or feeling because the end of my senior year of college I learned that if you have feelings there just going to get hurt. They tell you that rules are made to be broken. The same applies to hearts. Souls are made to be trodden and, squashed down. And love is nothing but the fuel for the pain that we will all feel someday. This was my grim outlook on life for the next 4.5 months accompanied by a sense of hopelessness in my fate. It wasn’t until that October, when I got away from myself and everyone else that I realized the truth of the words spoken at graduation. In those weeks I found that life could hold a sweetness that most have by now forgotten and a bitterness that I would never forget.

Entry Fourteen

I have recently been toying with a story idea. It really has nothing more than a title and a general plot idea. I don't really have any characters even. Well half of one. I know I am still in the middle of trying to figure out how to salvage "Spero" but the reality of this story is just too enticing.

The title is "Bus Stories". I know that sounds rather boring. Basically, it's about this old man who drives this school bus around the country picking up people of the road. Anyone who wants or needs a ride can get one free of charge. Relatively. They have to provide the old man with the story of their life...or rather how they got where they are now. It centers around several main characters that are on the bus for most of the story. And many other passing characters are introduced and then dismissed.

I just really like the idea of people and their connections right now. A this blog is a creative outlet for my benefit, I feel no pressure to make anything come out of this other than a few entries. It could go the way of that little story I started about a girl caught in the future (caput from lack of original thought and enthusiasm and time). Who knows. It doesn't much matter.

I wish I had more time to work out the complexities of "Spero" and the mess my mind made of it. My hope is that I can get my creative juices flowing with this story idea since the thought is a lot less complex. Then maybe my block on "Spero" will end.

Hmmm...Thank goodness I am not planning on making writing my profession. I would never finish anything.

Entry Thirteen (DREAM)

Heres a dream that I had last night. One of those real ones where you have to tell yourself that you are asleep and need to WAKE UP! I have to tell you that the weirdest people pop up in my dreams.

Another work dream. We all know that means it was more like a nightmare. It was an extension of my actual shift last night. It was just me and Crystal (the not so new anymore newbie that stole my Saturday close shift). We were five minutes from closing and the store was empty. Just then I notice that there is a five top at table 10. They just appeared out of nowhere as if from some weird customer spitting vortex. It was strangely close to the five top I'd had for real that night. I was reasonably upset because it was almost close and I had to deal with these people. I get their drink orders when another table, this one a seven top, appears out of the invisible vortex. The annoying thing about this table is that it's a co-worker and her family. I try to pawn it off to Crystal but she is completly unhelpful, complaining about still having to do her outs (this is almost exactly what she said that night for real). so I go to Bill and ask him to take the table because I am way to upset to deal with them. A Bob Evans server should know better than to come in 5 min. before close with her family. Soon after this exchange, I look around the floor and see half a dozen table sitting there. Seriously, someone needs to make some sort of blood sacrifice and seal this vortex/portal thing that keeps randomly letting customers in.

The weird thing is that this whole time, it stays 9:55 so that it's still okay for customers to come in because were not closed yet. Now it's become one of those very stressful dreams where I don't know what to do because there is just too much. I stop by a table and notice that Jimmy Larsen from church is there. I am just about to get annoyed at him (because apparently he works there) when I notice who is in his company. It's Lance from my 5th grade class. One of my first ever crushes. I was Earth and he was the moon in our "save the environment" skit we did in class. He once gave me a valentine and I cherished it forever. I think I may still have it. Anyway, shortly after encountering him, I tell myself finally that this is an impossible dream and I need to WAKE UP! This usually happens when things get too stressful in these dreams. I am somehow able to remember that I am at home, work is over and it's all okay.

Man, I hate dreams like that.

Entry Twelve

I got sort of bored in my STAT class. So this is what I did. A little creative writing for each of the classes I had that day. Not that good, I know. But sometimes you just gotta write to get better.

STAT
(for natural resource majors)
Sticky monotony. Sucking at our shoes as we trudge along this path. It is requirement. It is death. Of the mind. To the mind. To the parts which breathe. Stifling. A feather pillow in the form of tedious knowledge. Press down hard and smell the numbers. They are stale and we choke them down. Copy words like good little children. Lines and lines of what we know. Whats been force fed to us since our minds were new.

LAW
(rural and agricultural)
See the train. See it go. Go train go! Watch it speed on. This way and that. Derail train. Derail if you must. Go every which way so that time goes by in tedious nothingness. We will try to follow.
See Dr. Matthews. See him go. Go good Dr. go! Speed Speed on. This way and that. Dr. Matthews the train. Knows not where he goes. Though his derails are laughable, time goes on and learning is limited.

Genetics
(introduction to and evolution in conservation)
"Yellow-breasted rump-footed ferret" discovered!
A new breed of rodentia in the ferret family has been found, though "invented" may prove to be a better word for the matter. January 30th, 2008 Dr. (name omitted to save the man any humiliation) was teaching his IGEC (Intro. to Genetics and Evolution in Conservation) class at UMC when, as is his nature, he spouted out the species common name "Yellow-breasted rump-footed ferret". At first, all the students laughed at the absurd name. This kind of silly behavior was common in the classroom. Further investigation reveals that this "nutty professor" accidentally divulged the name of a new species that has yet to be released to the public. Dr. *********** is a member of a small group of scientists who claim that they discovered this new species. Specialists in the ferret family are unsure about the validity of the claim. They say the so called "yellow-breasted rump-footed ferret" closely resembles the common white ferret with yellow spray paint down it's front. No comment has been made by Dr. ********** or his colleagues about this claim and further investigation is needed before this animal is released to the public as a new species.
-Sarah Lambson
writer for peepholeintochaos.blogspot.com

Entry Eleven

Creativity has escaped me the last two weeks. There is no time for a spark or two of something that doesn't involve Ag law, genetics or Phylogenies. And that makes me a little sad. Of course I've been in a kind of rut for the past two months. I really hope to remedy that since creativity is an escape from all things mundane.

There is no real entry today. Simply the desire to have time to just sit down and plunk out something new. The weeks go by far too quickly for my taste. A blur of trying to keep up with all thats thrown at me. Between work, school and being Sunday School teacher, there is a lot that weighs me down. But I always look forward to the time before sleep, driving, naps where I just lay there and travel down new avenues of thought.

I was glad to do some finishing touches on the last entry and get it out yesterday. But that wasn't enough to quench my thirst for more. Thanks to Kirsten I now have something else to think about creatively. Our plan to make a "Muse"ical. She has a lot of the thoughts because she is the mother of this idea. I think that it could be amazing as long as no one has the idea first. Wouldn't it be so cool if we started this now and in 5 years somehow got it off the ground? It would be so amazing. We could be a new sister duo. We still need to work on getting that murder mystery we made together into something more cohesive.

Anyway. I would love a whole day or two off to just spend time updating "Spero" (it really needs it) and try out a few ideas that have been rattling round in my head for the last month or so.

Wow,it's almost February.

Entry Ten

Oh goody. My tenth entry on this blog. Took me long enough. I had planned to get a lot more posted over winter break. But it seems like these things never happen because I am too busy being lazy and enjoying doing nothing. I got several new ideas down, but not much else. The only thing I know is that I have a lot of changing to do. Heres an excerpt that isn't quite done but will have to do since I feel so bad for not having ANYTHING new lately. It's intent is to reveal the effects of the drug Nirvana to the reader. It's effects are pretty typical for a hallucinogen. It takes place in the perspective of both Alae and Crash. Here goes.

It was nearly 6:00, the time when most of the Rats made their way to their various haunts. Alae was supposed to be in the bar an hour ago to help make things ready. One of their more formidible patrons was going to be here tonight and everything needed to be ready for his arrival. She was never this late and Crash was beginning to worry. Times the way they were, anything could have happened to her. He made his way to the basement and found Christian sitting at the small table absorbed in another optimist leaflet.
"Chris, have you seen your sister at all today?"
"Yeah. I thought she was with you. She stumbled in here around 2:00. She didn't look well." He shrugged. "I assumed she was going to get a head start on the evening. I haven't seen her since."
"How ill did she look?"
"She could hardly walk straight. I tried to ask her about it, but she ignored me and went up to the bar. She was pretty loud going about it."
Crash shook his head.
"Sometimes I just don't know what to do with that girl."
He made his way back up to the bar. There was no evidence that Alae had made any attempts to set things up or had even been there at all. There was nothing for it now. He would have to get things ready on his own. In the process of setting up the rest of the chairs he heard a loud exclamation through the paper thin flooring of the rooms above. It's was Alaes voice. He sighed. At least she was still in the bar. Crash made his way up the stairs fully ready to give that girl a verbal lashing.
****
Alae awoke from a deep sleep. Dreamless and blissful. She was upside down and the room around her sparkled with shimmering pinpricks of light. Alae smiled and reached out her hand. One light landed softly on her palm. She closed her fist around it and it exploded with a tiny "pop".
"Ouch!" She gasped and examined her palm. A red spot had formed which blossomed into a gaping wound that took up most of her hand. As she continued to stare, it began to bleed out what smelled and looked like cherry jelly.
"Stupid light," Alae mumbled and proceeded to lick the jelly from her hand which tasted much like hot apple cider. It was delicious and she was enjoying herself immensely when the snake came in and ruined everything.
****
When Crash found Alae, she was in a horrible state. She was lying on the bed of room 7 with her head dangling off the end. All the lights were off and the blinds closed. She was humming to herself as she methodically licked her empty palm.
"Alae, what have you done?"
This did not bode well. He made his way to the window and opened the blinds to let some light in. Alae cried out and shied away from it. Crash went to her side to help her off the bed.
****
The snake slithered in with a dry whispering and hissed at her.
"Alae, what have you done?" it demanded. Alae wondered vaguely how the snake knew her name and why it was speaking. Snakes don't talk. And then suddenly it was lunging at her with it's mouth agape. Flame belched forth from growing maw and Alae acted accordingly. She shot up and scrambled against the headboard of the bed, as far from the snake as possible. She pulled the covers up over her head.
"Go away! You can't talk! You don;t know me! There's no reason to breathe fire at me you'll burn the room down! Go away!!'
The covers vanished from around her as did all her clothes leaving her completely naked.
"Alae, c'mon. whats the matter with you?"
Terrified, Alae rolled herself off the bed. Why did the snake take her cloths? What was it going to do to her? What sinister plan did it have? She was not going to let a snake taker her virginity.
"GO AWAY!! Your a snake, you don't want me! Give me back my clothes!" She could feel the snakes scaly tail wrap around her wrist and try to pull her from her hiding place.
"Alae, stop this. I don't have your cloths, they're on you. And I'm not a snake. I don't know what your on, but you need to get out from under there."
Suddenly the snakes hissing was slow, long and soothing. It had given her back her cloths. She felt warm and safe. The snake didn't want to hurt her. She should do what it said. She rolled out from under the bed and tried to stand up. But when she did, the whole room turned upside dow n which made it hard to move. Everything smelled like chocolate.
"Do you smell that Mr. Snake?"
She tried to stand again, but the snake had wrapped it's warm scaly body around her and was lifting her up. She wrapped her arms around it. Held it close. Then it began to sniff her which was ridiculous because snakes don't smell.
****
Crash took Alae in his arms as she tried to stand again and failed. She wrapped her arms around his neck. A strong smell wafted into his nose and he began to sniff Alaes hair.
"Alae..."
"No, of course you don't. you don't smell, you taste. Does it taste like chocolate?" Crash carried her out of the room and made his way to the stairs.
"Alae listen to me. This is important. Did you take Nirvana?"
She rolled her head around to look at him.
"What a silly question. Here, lick my hand it tastes like apple cider!"
"Theres nothing on your hand love. Do you remember what you were doing before you slept?"
But she wasn't paying attention to him. She was licking her hand and humming to some unheard tune.