Courageously Restarting

I forgot about my blog. (boo-hiss) Luckily I don't have a TON of followers or else that would get awkward.........


I'd like to think that starting over is perfectly normal. Exercising. Few of us have 100% attendance. Same with eating healthy. I actually had a journal entry about this just this morning! Funny how things crop up. I don't believe in coincidence either.

The blog was something for me to use the literary word to express myself during difficult times or ironic times or funny times or just plain good times. I find that I miss that feeling. But I grew up - graduated college and moved to a new place where I got caught up in trying to connect to real-life people. So now that I'm settled - nearly 3 years later - "I'M BACK!!!!"

You wouldn't think about it but the Lord wants us to always understand the idea of starting over. I think as humans it's almost second nature to let things slip and then try again and then let it slip and try again and again and again. The Atonement of Jesus Christ allows us to do this. No matter what the circumstance is. So even for my silly blogging that got dropped for a few years...starting over again always feels so good! So. Let the adventure begin. Again.

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Sleeping habits

I've been noticing a few things upon waking to the sunshiney world morning after morning. Things that I must do in my sleep but of course am unaware of such actions as I am asleep. Thus I can only make guesses from information gathered after rising from slumber.

I rotate clockwise. 

(I basically unravel all my sheets in one direction and send them plummeting to the ground)

I switch places with my body pillow. 

(I wake up on the other side of my body pillow than originally arranged)

I somehow push the mattress away from the wall. 

(when making my bed faithfully every morning I have to push it back up to the wall so my pillows don't disappear into the black hole behind my bed)

I pretend to eat suckers. 

(Carrie, my roommate, tells me that she hears noises that sound like I'm sucking on a sucker or eating quite noisily)

I write music in my dreams and hum it to Carrie.

(Pretty self-explanatory...)

I sometimes remove items from about my person. 

(nothing scandalous, things like earplugs, socks, etc)

I'm a really light sleeper and always have been. All my roommates, siblings and most especially my lovely mother can attest to this. 

It's a wonder I can do all these without waking myself up. 

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A word on being cut open

6 am. That's when I have to be there. 

NOT when I have to open my eye lids to a dark world.

NOT when I have to awake myself and arouse my faculties. 

NOT when I have to take a shower to scrub the special antibiotic soap all over my bacteria-ridden body. 

NOT when I have to prepare myself for my doom.

NOT when I have to leave my home to get to the hospital. 

I'm the first 'case.' That's right. The lucky girl that arrives at 6 am. 

6 am. Oh how I haven't missed you. Lucky for me, I get to be knocked out for a couple of hours to make up for it. That's when they cut me open. Yup. Like in the child's game, Operation. 

Tools needed...true story

Only for real. 

Due to many hilarious stories of delirious post-anesthetic behaviors, I'm leaving my phone in the care of my beloved mother who will be sane and drug-free at all times. She will be in possession of the device whilst I am in a drug-induced craziness. Until such a time that I can coherently converse with you lovely peoples.

SO nothing too scandalous if you please. It's my mother who'll be reading them. Just sayin.

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Eating snow babies

Oh snow. How you and I have battled through the years. You win some. I win more.

The cold time of year has begun and you had a win today. I slipped and took a tumble. But... I won more. I ate your babies.

Yes. I ate them.

I caught them with my tongue as they fell happily to the ground. They are screaming and wailing inside my body. Melted and suffering in my warm belly. 

You must have a short memory because this is my only revenge and yet you keep coming back for more. I could do this all day.

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Stress is like a hole in my stomach

Sometimes I want to scream like this.

And other times I want to go crazy like this.

But most of the time it ends up coming out like this.

Roiling and broiling in my little tummy. One little spot at the bottom starts to burn.

All the heat focuses. White hot fire lances everything around it.

Nothing wants to come into my mouth. My stomach clenches and starts to get all wrinkly like a raisin inside my body. Everything starts to erupt like Mt. Vesuvius. 

But I can't explode. Everyone else is keeping a cork on it and it looks silly for one person to explode by themselves.

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Dream big

Dreams, butterflies in the azure sky. Floating, lilting, playing in the soft downy clouds. Beautiful bright colors gleaming on their backs in the morning sun's rays. Nothing can reach them but a child on wings. Children are their caretakers, treating their fragile wings with gentle care and love.

Adults stay to the hard, cold ground to which they cling. They're really grown up caretakers that have stopped using their wings and grasped 'reality' tightly in their fists. Fear guides them now.

One such grownup child sits. She is small and few take notice of her. Her wings are broken. Her's is a lucky story however. She can still see the butterflies and her own wings. Most grownup children forget to look for either of them anymore.

Everyday she stares with hope and yearning at the beautiful orange butterfly dancing above her little spot on the ground. So close and yet so very far away. Her eyes shining and sparkling she beckons her desired treasure near. But it will not do. Dreams cannot get that close to the ground or they will die. And so each sunset ends with tears of sadness.

A little blond child stops and watches her reaching skyward with curiosity and compassion on his little smudged face. Gallantly, he offers his wings to her. Her excitement is beyond belief. She doesn't even notice his tattered clothes and matted hair.

She leaps into the blue. Her day in the sky is magical. She dances around clouds and amidst oceans of dreams and laughter. Her special friend is the little orange butterfly perched on her slight shoulder. Even as midnight colors and bright twinkling fairies blanket the sky, she wants to stay but the nice little boy must be missing his wings. She drifts down on fluttering wings to where he sits. His face is beloved to her now and always will be. With tears in her eyes she carefully hands the precious wings back to her savior. He kindly accepts.

He hands her wings to her. They are no longer broken. He has fixed them just for her. She wraps her arms around him in the best hug she has ever given. A small movement catches her eye. The little orange butterfly is falling to the ground from her shoulder.

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Monsters, beasts and the like

I listen carefully as I wait for them. They always come when it's the darkest. When I can't see them, only then will they come. The thud of my heart drowns out their coming, but I can feel them all around me. I can feel their empty souls. Ugly and lacking in light.

I try to elude them but the darkness is theirs. I kick and punch with all my might but nothing I do seems to faze them. My strength is being spread too thin. Too many.

Slowly they infiltrate the small space inside me. I scream but no sound comes out. The more space they take up...the harder it is to push them back out. They are cold and spiky. Prickly. My body crunches into a tiny ball, trying to squeeze them out. But somehow they've found more space to occupy. They reach into the parts of me that are weak and try to break anything they can.

Weakness. I can feel it piling up. How easily they found it all. How abundant it has become. There is no hope within me. It must come from outside. Anything.

Eternity drags by as the skirmish continues. Repetitive fears and worries flung around the room. Good always prevails...my time is coming...

Light. The Sun.

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On the clock

Darkness surrounds me. A soft darkness against the back of my eyelids. My body slowly relaxes against the welcoming couch cushions. Breathing slows down to a quiet rhythm and my heart thuds a low bass. The gears of my mind wind down and settle into place.

tick.

NO!! Please. I beg you! Do NOT Listen.

tick. tick.

Listen to the white noise of the fan blowing cool air across the room. Its purr will calm the senses. Ahhh.. much better. Listlessness takes over once again. My mind does a replay of the events and worries of the day, slowly stumbling along.

tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK.

Furrealz?! Ugh. Sounds like this clock has a hitch in its getup. Perhaps a limp? Whatever. It doesn't matter, either way it was seriously delaying my time of rest and recuperation (which considering how much I really don't get anyways you'd think I'd be used to it by now...), something most precious to me.

TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick....

Blast my light sleeping habits. Other more fortunate people would find it almost soothing to have the telltale rhythm of the clock rocking them to sleep. Oh no. Not me! That would be too wonderful. My body enjoys torturing itself at night. Even as a wee infant my mother told me it was my habit to wake when she so much as took a step into the room. I've had quite the amount of practice it would seem in a fifth of a century.

tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK. TICK. TICK. TICK.

ARGH!!! I will crush the stupid wall decoration! I swear that it will be done.

I tear down the time keeper and pull out its heart. The clock becomes quiet and useless without its power source. Blessed silence. Hallelujah!

Goodbye loud world of clocks and ticking. I'm headed to a world of quiet dreams.

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PUPPIES!!!!!!!!!!!

Since the little fluff balls are as of yesterday all taken to new homes and families, I must now present them to you. Puppies. What happy, fun creatures. Bouncing, skipping, playing, rolling, growling, yipping, romping, barking, tumbling, chasing, etc. Puppies only lose their appeal as they get older and bigger.

I have such a soft spot for animals. There is nothing more enticing to me than a cute fluffy little animal begging me with sad brown eyes to come and pet them. I'm a sucker for that. So imagine how awesome it was to come home to nine...yes NINE...new little puppies all bundled up in a pile in my dog's big doghouse on the first of May. Every week that passed the little guinea pig looking blobs became a little more puppy-ish.

My puppy, Rikki, the mother, is half Australian shepherd and quarter Border Collie and quarter Black Lab. She was a hoot to teach because she was wicked smart but had as much attention span as a goldfish (unless there was a treat involved). The father was a stray from a mile away. The owner's lived next to the church* we used to attend. He was a Red Heeler/ Terrier mix as far as I could tell. The array of colors in our puppies makes me wonder if there was another father in the mix-up however...

The boys were a little outnumbered coming in at 4.

Husky boy (aka Tubby)

This little guy was super fun but only after he got over his 'Momma's boy' shy-ness. Always happy and quick to play. He was gone the first week the FREE PUPPY SIGN went up. Cutie yeah?

Boxer Boy (Really submissive...momma's boy)

This pup was SOOOO submissive as you can see from the picture. He was such a Momma's boy he would only come greet you when you first came into the dog run and then it was keep your distance. But on his brave days he would play and tumble and attack my fingers just like the rest of the pups.

Rikki Boy

This little guy was as dominant as the kid above was submissive. He was the first to attack my legs/ fingers/ arms/ clothes...whatever he could get his teeth on. So much fun though! He would bark in protest if all the other pups were surrounding me and he couldn't get to me.

Border Collie Boy (super shy and super cute)

Oh Em GEEE!!!! This little tike was the last to go. He was so much fun! He would be way shy at first but then he would attack and it was adorable. He was my favorite little boy and I had a secret wish for us to keep him out of the all the pups. So sweet. :)

The girls came in at 5.

Husky Girl

This little gal was a yippy little kid. She would bark and she was not shy about wanting to dismember any limb she could get ahold of. Don't get me wrong she was cute while she did it but it certainly didn't feel lovely to have a cute pup pulling my arm out of my socket for all she was worth. ;)

Boxer Girl

She was the last little girl to head out from our kennel. She was a blast! She made sure she was the first to come out and greet me at the gate besides Rikki. Then she'd get so excited she would run back to the doghouse and then come back and maybe a couple more laps before settling on chewing on my fingers.

Black Girl

This sweetheart was the second to last batch that trickled away. She was so very sweet. When I would grab the last few remaining and take them over to the lawn to play, she'd romp around as much as the rest but when the sprinklers were on she wouldn't venture past the line of water. Her hair was so soft and thick. She's one of those with the sad brown eyes that can get me to do anything for them...

Aussie Girl (Cookies'n'cream)

Now she was my second favorite of the girls. She had the cutest bit of fluff just behind her head and it was so fine and soft. She was so playful. I dubbed her cookies and cream because of her coloring. Rikki's sister looked exactly like this and that's what the owner named her. Fitting.

Blue Heeler Girl (my favorite)

I adored this little girl. She was so sweet. When all the rest of the puppies were attacking me with their teeth she would come sit in my lap and lick my face. She was so sweet and gentle and she was the cuddliest of all the puppies. She was the first to go and I was devastated. DEVASTATED. But she was the best so of course she would be the first to go.

Eating time

My pup was very put-out that she couldn't find a spot to eat. These pups not only devoured every piece they could get into their mouths...they stood on every other piece of food on the dog bowl. There are only eight in the picture...and my feet as you can see. The black girl is missing. But they were such fun! I can't wait until the next round....(don't tell my mom...I don't think she'll be very excited...)

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Dweam wiffin a dweam

DREAM ONE

Snow is stacked around the road in plowed piles. Pine trees make a high skyline and through their hallways a dark and spacious warehouse opens. To the side of the mountain road a mining pit. Tiny figures pick at the rocks and small explosions spatter the mine. Formless people mill around the constricted open area; disappearing and reappearing with little purpose other than to exist in my mind.

From the deep blurry forest a Tyrannosaurus Rex bursts into the scene. Frantic movements of the figures becomes a haze in my peripherals. My limbs feel sluggish and my vision can*t seem to clear as I search for a hiding space from the huge carnivorous creature. A dugout; only tall enough for me and just as wide as a person across the shoulders; appears in the ground at the top of the hill with a few hiders in it already. I drop down inside and wait for the all*s clear.

A military march is heard in the distance. Soundless voices urge my escape. Only I can get away fast enough to come and rescue them from the overrule of the foreign military. I run up the hill and down through the warehouse. My computer and its cord are in my hands. It is essential that I keep it.

The officers of the brigade enter the warehouse moments after I run down the stairs. My fingers lose their grip on the computer. I look towards the opening to the upper floor and the leader looks at me with calculating eyes. He points at me and I weave and jump through the bottom floor to safety.

I am in the city now. I make my way into the Taggart Student Center. I find an elderly man who puts his arm around my shoulder; shielding me from the view of the occupant soldiers. His wife comes to my other side and guards me there. A soldier comes and tries to see my face. I keep it turned away and make my escape outside. I somehow find myself on babysitting duty. They only get to have 10 minutes to play outside.

At the close of their playtime; barrels of various colors float down from the sky. They melt into the ground where the storehouse resides. We wait in line; first come; first served. I come second after the first unlucky man. I turn to the boy behind me and we walk away trying to keep our spirits up. The front man attacks me and thrusts me up to the wall by my shoulders.

I push him away several times but each successive attack he gets stronger. My fists pummel his face but seem to have lost their substance. I feel completely helpless. I don*t have the strength I can feel in my anger. Something is wrong. My limbs don*t have strength at all. With one final attempt at escape from the evil man; I punch his face with everything left inside me and the jolt wakes me.

DREAM TWO

I look around. I*m in my room. Thank heavens. It was a dream. Odd. I*m not in my bed. I crawl out from under the covers and look to see that I am in fact at the foot of my roommate*s bed; scrunched into a ball and she is still asleep. I slip out onto the floor. I swear I don*t sleep walk. Perhaps tonight had disproved that. I stand up and look around. There isn*t much light seeping in through the blinds. It must still be night time.

Well I don*t feel too sleepy. A television sits on a dresser that has somehow replaced the head of my bed in the corner. I toggle the switches and look for a channel to watch. A female news reporter; in front of a red background; rambles on indistinguishably about something boring but I can*t seem to get away from this channel. My other roommates are still asleep so I try to find the volume button. It can*t be found. The television gets louder and louder. I panic because I don*t want to wake them all up. The noise eventually wakes me.

DREAM THREE

I*m in my old apartment in Old Farm. I*m laying on the ground between Sally and Charlie; my feet propped up on Sally*s armrest. The lights downstairs are all off and the hallway light upstairs shines down the stairs and through the bars of the stair railing. A movie is on and shadows of people I know sit on the couches attentive to its story. I try to sit up and my body won*t move. I*m so tired. I can*t seem to keep my eyes open. I can*t make anything move. My eyelids close but then flutter open as I come awake.

DREAM FOUR

I*m in my bed. My clock blinks early morning. My eyelids are heavy and my mind is grateful for the promised rest until my alarm is actually set to go off. I close my eyes and go back to sleep to find blurry dreams and sluggish fantasies.

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Day of conundrums

First conundrum: To wake or not to wake?

Out in the world of the awake is a haggard life full of dreary colors and drawn faces. No warmth resides in earth*s first morning breath. The happiness of the sun*s rising has not yet come to pass. The remaining winter bird*s twittering and lilting songs are absent. No sane creature stirs from its place of slumber. A sombre existence in a cognizant world.

Second conundrum: To class or not to class?

A professor*s lecture; full of pomp and vague humor; falls upon many closed ears. Numerous thoughts revolve around a world of dreams and happy hauntings sporadically tapping into instruction. A scarce few nod to the beat of exhaustion and button their eyes secure to the drone of the professor*s lulling oration; which arrests sycophantic attention alone. The chosen subject parades no excitement or fascination to claim justification for the sinful earliness of the rendition. The sandbag man is a far more virtuous and heeded competitor in this dark hour. 

 

Third conundrum: to eat or not to eat?

Being that the first and second conundra coupled; cause for quarterhour shuteyes and hurried traveling; eliminating tardiness served as a consequence for cuffing the snooze button. Time warrants especial division. Gluttony doesn*t comprehend the college cuisine and time deficiency increases eradication. Barren cupboards and wasted spaces common corridors in scholarly quonsets.

Fourth conundrum: to cut or not to cut?

Safe paths on busy highways in blocks and rows. Cut pathways snake through glades and manmade forests frothed with cultivated ices. Danger*s path the quicker road whilst safety*s course runs straight and eternal. Time saved prospects point out slippery ways.

Fifth conundrum: to work or not to work?

Well earned bills and hard spent hours; counterparts work well with instruction. Double-crossing juvenile*s wander lazy patterns within dusted academies while worn out managers sings praising. Beastly creatures run rampant through lowered appendages chasing star sounds. Late leaving monsters grate on hearing aids and mentors. Shaved trees whir round signatures and metal spikes in endless rhythms. Creeping bothersomes watch through clear membranes. Racing to time*s clock to beat the lagging constitution. 

Sixth conundrum: to study or not to study?

Missed concepts from early mornings literally book-ridden. Reconciling weary eyelids and drooping posture steps to ambrosia. Waltzing figures catching butterflies and bowling bubbles in neighboring ballrooms cast shadows on rainbow walls. Rambling attention befits festivities and laughter. Social calls inhibits motivation*s flow. 

Seventh conundrum: to sleep or not to sleep?

Days lain awake; end results to rest. Began with sleep*s deprivement now swift to late activities at it*s expense. Life*s spent worries laid to rest at bed*s edge.

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Cocoa + Sugar + Milk =

Chocolate pudding. The little box sits in my cupboard off to the side, untouched and unnoticeable. Until now. My eyes furtively glance at its alluring cover time and time again. I can't seem to forget it's small presence there. My brain can't seem to fathom any other food product to be edible. But at the same time my brain says, "NO! It will accumulate on your behind, your thighs, your belly, your forehead, everywhere that it is undesirable. Do NOT pull that chocolate pudding out of the cupboard!"

My stomach long since deprived of any nourishment grumbles it's thoughts, "I'm empty. Anything will do. But why not something delicious and succulent?" Once again my eyes seek the brown and blue colored box...why are these colors so vivid today?! My hands try to shut the door to my barren cupboard...or is it full? I can't tell...all I can see is that blasted box of pudding!!

Suddenly my mouth begins to water and it sends memories of the delicious taste of the cool soft chocolate pudding to my wavering brain! My resolve weakens...I had basically killed my body exercising the day before...and they say that chocolate holds the key to rebuilding muscle... So much is at stake!

"Ashley..." What the..?! I thought all my roommates were at class or work... I glance around. Nothing. "Ashley..." It was the PUDDING!!! Pudding isn't supposed to talk right? I'm hallucinating... I'm imagining that that stupid box is calling my name! I'd better eat it to shut it up... I can't have a box of chocolate pudding goin around speaking my name. Not gonna happen.

I pull the box frantically out of the cupboard and the milk out of the fridge. I mix the powdery contents of the package into the two cups of cow product in a medium-sized yellow bowl. I wait anxiously while the concoction lives in the fridge on the top shelf cooling and setting into that pudding consistency. The empty box sits in the garbage...screaming of my weakness.

The next step. Consume with pleasure. So I grab a spoon and dip it into the brown goodness... I am definitely a fan of deliciousness. Tomorrow when I am feeling sick because of the overload of sugar, I'll regret this...but right now...I'm doin just fine!

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