the thin line between optimism and delusion…

Bella should know better than to pass out somewhere other than her bed, who knows what will happen to you. (She was REALLY sleepy, long hard day).  

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So Mama and I started taking pictures.  

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I think we need a little lesson in commenting. Now, I understand that it is my fault that this is confusing, so I made it a little easier. Where it used to say, “Boo you whore,” it now says “comments.” Once everyone gets used to commenting like this, I will change “comments” to something more interesting. But for now, it is going to say “comments.”

But please comment, I love comments, they make me happy.

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I thought this was funny. (turn your volume on for this one).

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For some reason I am having a hard time with the copy and past
mechanism between livejournal and blogger.  Actually, I am having
a hard time with the copy and past in my computer overall.  So I
haven’t been keeping up livejournal as well as I have been blogger, so
you might want to go to www.charlsiekate.blogspot.com.  I am going to try to get it fixed, but until then…..

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I have lost my voice. Sometime over the weekend it ran away and I haven’t gotten it back yet. I don’t know if this happens because all of last week I had a terrible cough, and that my coughing caused my voice to fail through overuse, or if sometimes colds take out your voice regardless. Because even though I coughed all of last week, my voice went out on me in about an hour. I went from being the girl with a bit of a cough who was a tad bit horse, to not being able to complete sentences in the time it took me drink a beer on Saturday. Now, had I known where this cold was going, I probably wouldn’t have been drinking. But I didn’t, and I was.

When I woke up this morning I wanted to believe that it wasn’t that I feel really bad, it was just that I lost my voice. But the longer I am awake, the less I believe this to be true. I slept for ten hours last night and I think this is what helped me feel okay this morning. But I slept well because when I couldn’t stop coughing once I laid down last night (you know how that works, you have your cough under control until you lay flat, and then you think you are going to die) so I took a tylenol 3 – the one with codeine in it. I knew I needed the sleep (I stayed up too late Saturday night – lost voice and all), and without it I might not be in class this morning. But Allison said she was worried about me because I didn’t look like I felt well. I must be getting sick. I know I am hypochondriac, but I think I might actually be sick this time.

I have three classes this morning. I told the first teacher that I couldn’t talk so he wouldn’t call on me. I didn’t tell the next teacher because he is the teacher that called on me last week and I didn’t think he would call on me two days in a row, regardless of whether or not I could talk. But of course, he did call on me. Which is fine, I wish he would call on me all the time, because it would keep me focused and I would be more prepared. But it didn’t change the fact that I can’t talk. So I had to tell him the best I could that I couldn’t talk. Well, I can talk for about 2/3 of a sentence, and then I lose it. But I did go to the trouble to tell my third teacher that I wasn’t prepared, just be on the safe side.

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I got called on in natural resources this morning. I wasn’t really prepared, and the part I was prepared for I read a couple of days ago, in addition to the fact that the case was in a packet that I managed to rip apart this morning. So there I was, fumbling with loose pieces of paper that were out of order, and panicking that I wasn’t going to know any of the answers. This is the fourth straight semester that I have had this particular teacher (cause I like him). Here is the exchange.

Me: (shuffling papers, blacking out) “Ummm, well, I read this the other day, so bear with me while I get it together.”

Appel: “Well, it is nice to know that nothing ever changes, does it, Ms. Paine?”

(class erupts in laughter)

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I stayed out too late. I got up too earlier. I drank a lot of scalding hot black coffee and cold clear beer. I took freezing cold showers. I took very hot showers. I took the LSAT in Boulder on a monday afternoon. I took a lot of pictures. I watched it snow in late May.

I drove more than a couple of thousand miles that summer. I hiked close to a hundred miles over many hours. God taught me how to walk and at the same time be still. He taught me how to be quiet and enjoy the scenery. I ate a lot of peanut butter toast, snickers bars, and hot tamales. I went on the perfect date. I stood on top of a mountain I had climbed and surveyed the world from the top. Then I did a handstand on that mountain. I drank a lot of water. I read a few choice books. I danced the night away. I watched falling stars with people I cared about a great deal. I learned how to manually score a game of bowling. I sat at the bar and discussed life for many hours with older, wiser people than myself. I watched friends struggle with themselves. I learned how to work a credit card machine. I watched a lot of people get married. I listened to music that filled my soul and haunts me to this day (and will probably haunt me forever). I missed my home.

Every day of that summer I looked up into the sky and was arrested by the blue, blue, blueness and thought about how I was the luckiest person in the world. I wore my red shoes every day. The sun was fierce, the shade was chilly, the thunderstorms were full of hail, but there was never enough rain to stop the fires. The smoke blew in and turned the moon to blood. There were no fireworks on the fourth of july that year. I learned what it really meant to fear the flame. I learned a lot about a lot of things that summer.

I learned who I was, in a place where no one knew me before I got there.

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I can’t fight the cold. I have given up and returned home to sit in my bed with my heating pad and dream about summer time. I am still going to attempt to do my homework, but my room is so messy I might have to attack it before I can do anything else.

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I am afraid of my Evidence teacher – Carlson. Well, afraid is wrong. I care. A feeling I haven’t had since first semester of last year. This class makes me nervous. I think part of it is that I wish I could be good in the court room, but my nerves get the best of me. And Carlson conducts class like a courtroom – lots of role playing, etc. And I get nervous. I still of course volunteer – it is compulsive, but my heart starts to beat faster, and I can’t breath, and I kinda tremble. I’m going to make one hell of a litigator.

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