Crumbling

When I make plans, I make them big (by plan I also sometimes mean that-scenario-I-play-out-in-my-head). But the problem I've found is that "plans" have little details that need looking after. It usually involves the agency of other people.

So it goes like this...

I run through possible scenarios of a situation that I'll soon find myself in inside my little noggin. Usually I have really awesome come backs or life-altering ideas for my end of the scenario and it is always performed with finesse and just the right amount of everything to make my responses perfect. The other person is either quite speechless with my verbal prowess that anything they say is flat out weak or they agree completely and wholeheartedly with what I have to say. So my "plans" are usually foolproof.

Until I get to the actual real-life play out.

Things usually go all sorts of wrong. I am nervous and shaky so my voice is too. The words I planned on using end up in corners of my brain that are only to be found when in fantasy mode. The surroundings end up skeewompus and so I am flustered. My perfect scene is to remain on the drawing board inside my own head.

Most of the things that end up interfering with my perfection, have to do with those other blasted people that end up involved in the real life situation.

So instead of saying or doing it the way I had imagined they said or did it, they use their agency and do their own thing. Gasp. Those wretches.

So one tiny deviation from my own imagined scenario and my whole "plan" crumbles into tiny teeny unsalvageable pieces. Then my plans are a moot point.

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A disney reference

Considering how I compared my life to a real-life woman of hollywood origins, I figured I better do one for a cartoon-life woman.

Wendy. She has so much fun flying around with Peter Pan and the lost boys. Adventure after adventure with a boy of joy and excitement. A boy who never wants to grow up.

Okay. Impossible physically but terribly possible emotionally/mentally/spiritually/grammatically, to stay in that youthful state. I honestly always think that there will be a part of me that will never grow up, that side of me that will be competitive to a fault, silly beyond all reason, and crazy when chocolate is in the system. But on the flip side not growing up can be seriously detrimental to your mental health! Let's consider.

There is a time and a place for everything. The learning curve is weighted towards the younger years. With our brains on the developmental pathway, we literally determine the amount of intelligence we will have by how much we learn during this period. However, I think that the type of learning changes with the amount of maturity reached. We find that we like certain things, we learn a certain way, and so we set our feet on another path of learning, a path of purpose. Now kids a lot of times don't really have a purpose to their learning. They just soak up whatever comes. The purpose comes with the maturity. That is a higher level of learning and so to stay in that child-like state, you can learn and learn as much as your brain can hold BUT you will never have that purpose.

Back to comparison. I have found that I truly have trouble with the idea of growing up. It is freakin scary. When my original graduation date came up (before I changed my major) I was a panicky mess. A hot panicky mess but a mess none-the-less. Wendy had loads of fun on their adventure to Neverland but when it came down to actually staying in Neverland versus going and growing up, she chose the latter. I have a lot of decisions like that to make in my life right now and I am back to the hot mess situation again. I have to decide where my life will go when that moment comes that I must either decide to stay in Neverland or to grow up. 

I'm really thinking that growing up is my next adventure. sigh.

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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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Wanderlust

My bag is packed. Selected and designed to get me to my journey's end.  I open the door. The first step is always the hardest, the leaving part. But yet not the hardest. The excitement for adventure in me makes it easy. I step onto the road to test my true endurance.

The road is long. I've known it for some time. Prepared in every way possible. But what awaits me, is beyond my comprehension. I've only heard stories and fairy tales of the place at the end of this road. I must get there. The desire in my heart and the strength in my soul begs me to reach out for it. Despite the promised dangers that lay in wait and the strain on my mortal body, I travel.

Thirsting and starving. Stumbling, weary, and travel worn. I stop. Only for a time. I am alone on the road. I find a stream heading the same direction I am. The cool water refreshes me and I eat my bread to strengthen me. The night is coming.

Much must be done to prepare myself for the long night. Shelter is thrown up and a fire lights a small circumference around me. I sleep for a time.

Noises coming from the dark. I've been taught to stay in the light. The creatures of the night don't bother with fire and its company. But sleep is hard to come by with the fear and anticipation of what lay beyond my eyes' seeing. The fear gathers inside me and I doubt the sun's rising. But just the slightest glimmer on the eastern horizon sparks hope in my heart.

The road stumbles me. My small torch only shows me so far ahead. Many times I climb huge obstacles and other times I walk sluggish through dense forest. But always my mind remembers where I'm going. And who will be there waiting.

I've reached the mountain. My destination lies beyond. With determination I reach up and take hold. My load weighs me down at times but it is essential for me to keep it close. Climbing requires all my strength and fortitude. Sometimes I run out. But Someone's hands push me forward or lift me up when I get caught.

Right now I must struggle on. The hardest part of my journey is stretched up before me. I have come a long way. But more is required if I am to reach this place. My heart yearns for it. Although my body is weak, strength will come.

Nothing can stop me but myself.

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Book covers and what's inside

The Master Librarian always says, "Never judge a book by its cover." The hard part is there are so many attractive covers. They look so enticing and exciting. Most of the other book covers are mediocre and thus just beyond my notice. Not that I judge them for it. Just ignore them. A few grab my attention because of their atrocious looking covers. I definitely judge those and I think those are the ones He's talking about. But there can't be much to love inside their covers when they look like that.

I peruse the selection of new books before me. I sort them according to their title and on a smaller level their state of attractiveness. Humming as I finish my job there in the library, the Master Librarian walks up behind me and watches my work silently. I hardly ever see Him even though He's always there.

My sorting is getting more liberal. His presence somehow makes my eyes see differently. Some books look precious to me despite the raggedy appearance. I feel his attention move to the previously sorted books. I can feel the prickle of guilt start inside my gut.

"Never judge a book by its cover, Little One." My cheeks burn as I go back through the piles and rearrange their order. I must see what is inside them before I can decide their place in the library. Some of the prettier ones have horrible things inside them. I'm horrified! Many of the uglier ones are so beautiful on the inside. Some of them I sit in wonder for hours staring at what I see inside them. A quiet nagging starts in the back of my brain.

One book sits in the back corner of the library. I do my very best to never touch it. Or dust it. Or come near it. That book has been there for a long time. I've never liked the look of it. It always made me mad to look at it. Sometimes I couldn't understand why the Master Librarian would make these kinds of books.

I look to His face. He knows where my thoughts have wandered. Suddenly I know that He took great care to put that book together and it hurts him when I avoid that book so much. I hang my head in shame.

Once alone again, I wander over. The book is dusted over and just as hideous to me as ever.

I gingerly pick it up. The book seems eager to open up to me. What an odd sensation to get from a book. I open the once repulsive cover. Wonder and amazement flood my entire being. Why hadn't I opened it before? Sadness replaces my feelings of awe. How lonely it must've been because of my aversion.

It took me a long time to see and it will take me even longer to learn to "Never judge a book by its cover."

An age old phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover.' Repetition usually denotes a valued lesson...it always falls on deaf ears. Learning often involves mistakes in retrospect. But those are the hardest lessons to learn. Regret is often their companion. But they stick longer.

Snap judgments can last a lifetime. And thankfully the Lord showed me the truth. All the bad thoughts, the misconceptions meant nothing to me. I was shown the soul of someone I had deemed unworthy of my love and compassion. But that was the biggest lie I told myself. They needed that part of me more than anything else I could've given. I realize all the little mistakes through the many years I've known them that had I saved judgment for later I might've made their journey a little lighter, a little happier.

To have a friend in someone who needs a friend so badly, is probably the most fulfilling role a person can fill. Hopefully I'm big enough to fill it this time.

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And did not know it. What!

This little delight is me trying a hand at poetry. I spouted it out one day when I was feeling especially pensive about life and the "elusive future" (as Pres. Monson puts it) in store for me.  We all search for answers to what will happen to us as time goes by. Although I still sometimes worry about my future I know to whom I can turn for solace and comfort.

They say it like it's my choice. But how could it just be mine?
It can't be up to me alone, can it? That would be too easy.
The world isn't run on one girl's dreams.

And if it were up to me…would I choose the lighter road?
My decision weighs on the balance, not balances the weight.
Destiny doesn't change for one heart's high hopes.

In the divergence before me, I know what end I want.
Easy trails and smooth walking don't describe that road.
Life won't slow down for my feeble knees.

To take a step in one direction, I need to have courage.
But to reach that goal however, I can not walk alone.
He will walk beside me for my faith.

The world may not care for my dreams. He does.
Destiny may throw my hopes to the wind. He holds them in his own heart.
Life may push on without me. He won't move forward leaving me alone.

No matter the path I choose.

I usually have a hard time accepting the possibilities that life holds for me. There isn't enough solidity for me but that's exactly how God planned it. In order to progress I must take a step in the dark hoping to find ground beneath my feet. The solid ground of my Savior, who will always be there to support and succor me.

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Real faces

A mask to the world. With light colors and happy faces painted on the outside. A sunny lie. Something different resides behind the facade. Nothing black or evil. But something different. The truth. The real face.

The face I don't like to see.

When the world looks at your face they see beauty and sunshine. Your pay isn't an actor's pay as much as it should be. Happiness that bright has to be of an actor's creation. Contentment and serenity dance a scene on your mask.

Weathered eyes see past the age old play.

What lies behind. The thing of masks is their holes. Flaws. No matter the finesse of the painter, there cannot be perfection. Sight would never be sacrificed for such.

Eyes. Windows to the soul. Souls cannot lie. Eyes. Two way streets.

No contemplating on what lies behind. Studying what is seen is a dangerous game to play. Knowing what resides there behind the pretty mask stutters the painting's beautiful image. All feel the unrest and the dissonance. To discern the origin of discord requires well-traveled eyes. A hard road traveled.

A road never traveled twice.

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Glowing inside

I sit inside this decaying mortal body. I've been trusted with its care. It functions well. But every moment is precious. Although there is strength and physical hardiness to be found, my gift is fragile. Any moment could find me flying back to the presence of my God, leaving it behind.

My beautiful perfection has been marred by some of the things it does. I feel bits of me being chipped off by the sheer depression of a mortal mind and the weak faltering of a carnal nature. I try to stop it. To warn it but while I am in this body, my voice goes unheeded a lot. My voice. It used to ring through the halls of heaven, but now it's small and quiet, barely a whisper. 

Words of encouragement drizzle down on me like warm summer rain. There is nothing else comparable to this feeling. The voice of the prophet of the Lord carries in it the voice of my Savior. My Redeemer speaks to me through his servants, words composed to lead me through the darkness into His everlasting light. The love and light in their eyes reminds me of moments before this life. Of a Heavenly Father and Mother. I swell with happiness and fill the shell that holds me here.

First Presidency

These are the moments that regenerate the light within me. The channel that mortality hinders, opens up at their soft words. The more light my mortal lets in, the less I am pushed back. The abundance of light that this gathering and teaching has provided always stitches a part of me to my frame. This is why I'm here in this body.

To become what my Father is. Light.

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Golden delirium

I watch the little white fluffs coasting down from grey low-cast skies. Street lights cast a glow of gold across the white terrain, almost beguiling me. 

But I'm no fool. 

There is no warmth on the other side of the double-paned glass that I look through. It is a false type of gold. 

Hell's gold.

The real gold won't come for a long while it seems. The presence of cold and slushy snow drifts acts to push back its coming. 

The world has been subjected to this cool silver season for a small eternity. Every year it seems to last longer than the winter prior. And colder. It's always colder than the last roll around. 

Heat. 

That's what I look forward to. Hot molten sunlight saturating my skin and hair. Inhaling spicy summer air, warming my frozen soul. Gold and lively green hues surrounding me and feeding my dull spirit. Sunlight reaching into every dark corner and refurbishing the winter dilapidated happiness.

To run through fields of lush green grass chasing balls and frisbees. To catnap in sunlight's warm embrace. To accompany nature's inhabitants through morning's first waking, along deer trails and mountainsides. To explore the wilderness of a hidden grove. To lay in repose, watching the clouds drift lazily across an ocean-blue sky. To watch tiny seedlings swell to adulthood in the sun's daily presence. To lose yourself in the pink and white frothed orchards.

These are what I hunger for and every winter I'm left wanting. Starving.

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Leaning tower of bracelette

I am a bracelet queen. Bracelets are kind of my thing. If it's roundish and fits my wrist...I'll take it. I've been told that because of this fetish I am a hippy child. Whatever the reason, I wear a menagerie of bangles on my wrists, heavy on the left side. These make up only half of the bracelets in my ownership.

From top to bottom:

• EFX neoprene surfer's band
• A large colorful handful of crazy bands, shapes include: unicorns, fairies, magic lamps, dragons.
• Some fake, but really sweet pearl bracelets
• Two Support The Troops bands
• Awesome sauce handmade Argentinian bracelet
• A wire and rubberband made by Tanner Lewis
• Slap bracelet with "I <3 JESUS" found in the Joann's parking lot
• Polar plunge bracelet from doing the 2011 polar plunge
• Another pearl bracelet...separated from the others
• Bridgerland Applied Technology College memo band (my place of employment)
• Green and purple pipe cleaner bracelet made by yours truly
• Big thick green PEACE bracelet attained from Rue 21
• A fantastic Green Earth band
• Lots of turquoise beady bracelets

As you can see in the picture I also have another bracelet taking residence on my wrist. A double EFX band for balance and serenity.

The bracelets that have permanent residency on my wrist: a baseball seam tied to fit my wrist from a baseball in a park, a horse hair bracelet from my horse Rho, usually a hair band for wayward hair, and a friendship bracelet I made for myself. I have multiple bands for charities and causes that occupy my jewelry box at home. And I just made a purchase of rope bracelets from Downeast Basic. I plan to continue to add to my already abundant collection of bracelets and bands and bangles until I feel that it is complete.

Which will be never.

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Books of paradise

There are many times in my life when I just need to cuddle up on the couch or curl up on my bed and read a good book! 

Sometimes I*m in the mood for a gushy-like-gushers; cheesy-like-the-delicious-squeaky-kind; sappy-as-a-pine-tree romance novel. Other times I*m in need of an honest to goodness C.S. Lewis novel for some deep soul searching and philosophical ponderances. Every night I crack open the Book of Mormon (1) for some serious studying to find life changing answers and comforting words. When I*m up for it I*ll grab a Sherlock Holmes mystery and puzzle my way through it. 

But the books I will never tire of. The books that capture my attention every time I look at the cover. Books with cunning wit. Books of stunning insight and out-of-this-world knowledge. Books that make me laugh until I cry or cry until I laugh. Books that change my life. 

These are books of the paradisical glory of which I speak...

Me and my awesome nose...oh; and the book is there too.

The Complete Book of Nose Etiquette
 ...and other nasal matters

written by Dr. Doight du Nez

drawings by Steve Bjorkman

Never before have I stumbled upon such a work of greatness. Well...it was more my uncle. He was foraging through his old room and its remaining occupants and brought it up to us. I snatched it and haven*t relinquished it since. With amazing depictions of the different nose types in existence; the book describes the 7 basic nose types; discusses the different booger removal techniques available; and even lists some easy do-it-yourself ways to get the nose you*ve always dreamed of. This is by no means light reading.

If you can see my eyes...you might be ninja...

The Ninja Handbook

This book looks forward to killing you soon

Official product of the International Order of Ninjas

This wondrously sneaky book came as a not-so-surprise Christmas gift from an esteemed foe of mine. As is his nature; he tends to think that I need help in this area (little does he know I wrote Section II deducing your ninja level and Section IV the skills of a ninja). In this book it discusses secrets of the elite ninja lifestyle. As the title denotes it is a handbook of sorts. But as with everything else that is awesome; being a ninja goes far and beyond what is contained in this teeny tiny book as all real ninjas well know. 

note: there are serious penalties to those who read this book and disperse the actual contents of its pages...you have been warned...

I*m just a small town girl trying to figure things out...

This Is NOT A Book

Written by Keri Smith creator of Wreck This Journal

This Is NOT A Book was an interesting item to come across. It really isn*t a book. I didn*t read it. Every page contains a new adventure to be performed by the owner (me). From creating Treasure Maps to Psychological mood-altering machines to Kits for boring events. This book is stuffed with crazy random missions for the bored-out-of-your-mind type people or people who need some serious awesomeness in their lives. Some day when I*ve completed all of the pages inside...I will be so mind-bogglingly fantastic no one will know what to do with me.

Well...that is assuming they know what to do with me now...as a normally fantastic person...

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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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Disgusting distasteful deceivers

The bag sits innocently on a shelf. Other bags surround it but this bag is different. It is new and exciting. The packaging is bright yellow with rainbow of colors flying about with an alluring pattern.

Skittles.

My taste buds are always pleased with the taste of the rainbow. Never has disappointment been the emotion I*ve experienced when devouring their deliciousness. I am definitely a fan of their delicious flavors.

Thus I am viciously betrayed.

The view before me suggests another package of fantastic flavor. The smell of sweetness somehow wafts from the unopened package. I take the bag of Skittles Blenders in my hand; checkout; and arrive home in a matter of a moments. I pull the colorful bag out of the grocery sack and open it to the yummy looking contents.

I grab a few of each color; intent on deciphering which flavors are the most delicious. I pop a few of the light green in my mouth. Meh. The flavor is definitely NOT a party in my mouth as I was expecting; a little bitter for my taste buds but overall a mundane flavor.

The next color; creamy orange; zooms into my oral cavity. Chewing. Chewing. Nope. Not a fan.

Pink. This is always a great choice. I can*t go wrong with this color. Surprise fills my soul. It isn*t tasty in any way; shape; or form. What had possessed the flavor creators?! My mouth is feeling completely unsatisfied.

Red; surely this color will give me some sort of delightful surprise. I shove the crimson candies in my mouth; determinedly. The flavor hits my tongue and...my tongue rejects it wholeheartedly. My mouth begins to complain and my stomach churns at the noisy orifice. There is no way I*m sending the abhorrent mass down.

Blue. The last color of the new Blenders* flavors. Perhaps I had gone through the worst colors first. This very well could be a flavor fest waiting to burst in my mouth with a magical sensation of ambrosial delight. Hesitantly; I put the indigo pieces past my lips. My entire body revolts! I have a mouthful of inversion inside of me! Luckily I*m able to remove this disgusting inedible stuff into the nearby trash can.

My mouth is extremely disappointed right now.

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Less timeless

I haven*t been here long. 

Just a little over a fifth of a century really. It*s timeless to me because it*s all I*ve ever known. I don*t have a specific beginning point to my memories; merely snippets of my past that shimmer in my conscious. It*s surprising that I remember as much as I do. So much happens in one day. More often than not; there isn*t enough time for it all.

In retrospect; time goes by like a pinprick. At the moment; it certainly doesn*t feel like it is. This is where regret falls. Maybe time isn*t as timeless as it used to be before. The closer I come to the literal meaning of mortality; the more I appreciate the time that has been allotted me. 

No matter how much I appreciate it though; it still has a way of slipping away.

So many silly aspirations flit about in my dreams. I hardly ever act on them. Fear. Doubt. Pain. I know I forget to live my life for fear of losing or for fear of change. Whatever the case may be; I feel like in all the 21 years I*ve been on this planet; I still haven*t lived the fullest life that I am able. I*m not a fearful person by nature. Any fear I may have; comes at another*s bequest. I*m really quite optimistic and laid back about everything. Which has proven quite worrisome to my parents many a time.

Time. What a small word for such an altering constituent of life. The best moments in mine; are the moments that I*ve spent doing what I love.

I love being with my family. But you and I both know that there is never enough time spent doing that. Every time I*m with them; I can be myself. No pretending; no facade; no tough face. But this is where life throws its curve. I never feel like I measure up. In a family where the genius and talented gene runs rampant; I never feel like I have anything to offer to the family name. I*m not dumb nor talentless; but my progress in life has been halted many times because of my fear of failure when compared to any of them. I wish that I hadn*t let all that time go to waste worrying about it because then I would have so much more confidence in myself whether or not failure was the end result.

Having so little confidence in myself; I can*t stand the thought of people thinking badly of me and that is my worst fear. Fear. It holds me back every time; even when I know it is ridiculously futile. 

If I spent more time doing things just for the heck of it; doing what I want to do; and less time fretting about others* opinions of me; I wouldn*t have so many retrospect regrets.

Fact; time isn*t long enough. But...

would I take the best advantage of it if it were?

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Passersby

There isn*t much to be said about walking past people; except that it can be extremely awkward. I*ve noticed with all of my experience in passing people in the street or on campus; that most are no good at the whole passing thing. There isn*t any literature or written code on the passersby etiquette but it would seem that there are many rules; do nots; and many amendments to top it all off. The amount of thought that each person has to put into merely walking past someone else is enough to make one*s head spin.

My most favorite is the not-supposed-to-walk-on-the-same-side-of-the-road unspoken rule. When walking down the street if there is a person on the same side coming towards you; inevitably they have to get to the other side of the road; immediately or as quickly as possible. The thoughts that roll through my mind include: 

• *Do I reek so badly that it has wafted all the way down to them already?*
• *Would fatal collision have been certain had we both continued on the same side of the road?*
• *Do they know something about me that they shouldn't?*
• *Probably just couldn't handle walking past the awesomeness and attractiveness that is me.*
• *Does my bed hair look atrocious and they don't want to have to hide their sniggering?*

The next unspoken rule on my favorites list is the don*t-smile-because-it-might-not-be-reciprocated -and-then-things-could-get-really-awkward rule. Come on peeps. Show them pearls off. Every time we pass someone; it is our mini audition as a smile model.
 

Absolutely-positively-NO-communication-whatsoever-or-you-will-DIE rule is steadily making its way up on my favorite unspoken rules list. I believe that this is proof of digression in our species. The grunts from pre-homo erectus are even non-existent in the passersby*s world. Communication was a big thing back in the day. Since we can't seem to stay away from the 60s hippy-isms; the 70s dancing; the 80s clothes; and the 90s hair; why not yesterdays communication? Saying hello to someone hasn't killed anyone yet and if it has; it is a very tiny number; not likely to happen to anyone we know.

My cousin touched on this next unspoken rule in her blog. The must-walk-on-the-right-side-of-the-sidewalk rule. It*s good to know that all of us are good enough drivers to apply the traffic idea to the sidewalk. It does make the flow of passing people so much flowier. However; in many cases people will go out of their way to make sure that you do not pass them on the wrong (left) side. 

Another unspoken rule on my list is the you-can-move-out-of-my-way-because-I-obviously-have-the-right-of-way-in-this-situation rule. This one is especially fun in the winter time when the sidewalks haven*t been shoveled yet so there is only the path where many shoes have walked. Because of the limited space for your feet; besides the perfectly good snow banks on either side that will instantly soak anyone to the bone. But there's always the person who walks like a Viking; tall and strong and true and completely unyielding; even if they have a small pullover space close by. 

I face these dilemmas every day as I pass many people walking to and from classes and work and home. There are so many little subtleties to the passersby etiquette. I haven*t even covered all the the little unspoken rules of passing people such as the hurry-and-pass-someone-from-behind-while-looking-at-*something*-very-interesting-on-the-other-side rule or the they-just-slipped-but-I*m-going-to-pretend-that-I-didn*t-see rule. 

I'm sure that we all know the feeling of passing someone and putting WAY too much thought into what we should do.

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Size issues

I am leaving campus, making my way home in the crisp fall air. Home. Home is a three story apartment building, gray siding with chipping paint, rotting boards, and rusting stairs. Despite the decrepit outward appearance, the inside has been transformed into a comfortable and cozy home. I am looking forward to making it back to the marginally warmer indoors. It is a bit nippy out and I am so very tired. A nap is more than welcome on my agenda. 

Looking down at my feet and watching all the fallen leaves as I pass them, I start to see something unbelievable. Of course there are red leaves, yellow leaves, orange leaves, greenish leaves, brown crunchy leaves, but the colors aren't the peculiarity I'm seeing. Every so often, amidst the array of color, I see an enormous, gigantic, huge, impossibly large leaf. Some of them quite possibly have more surface area than a serving plate. 

I, being the plant geek that I am, pick one up and continue my journey home, all the while staring in amazement at the huge plant appendage in my hand. I look back once or twice at the tree this abnormal thing must have fallen from. All the rest of the leaves look normal tree leaf size. 

Once I arrive home and drop all of my things on the couch I begin comparing the leaf to all sorts of things to verify it's true size...

Left: Platanus x acerifolia, Middle: Homo sapiens, Right: Acer platanoides

I compare it to my face. It is bigger. 

Maybe if I spread both of my hands across it...not even close. The leaf wins by a long shot. 

Couch cushion...maybe 2 1/2 times smaller. Maybe.

Both of my neighbor's shoes...it wins again. 

The large end of a guitar. Its lobes still hang over the edge.

My hips...it's a tie. 

I compare it to a record case. Almost the exact same size across in all directions. 

A cookie sheet...it takes up over half of its surface. 

It is larger than the butt indent on all of our dining chairs.  

                          An 8" x 11" sheet of copy paper...way bigger. 

This thing is humongous! I could use it as a hat, it's that large. Like on the Disney movie, Bambi, when all of the little chicks are huddled under the leaf that outsizes them and their mother combined. But those are little prairie birds. I'm a human and I could probably shelter myself under this thing. And it isn't even the largest that I had seen lying under its mother tree. 

I know what tree I want to stand under come drenching spring rainstorm. I say spring rainstorm because in a fall rainstorm...the huge leaves would fall and plaster themselves to your body. Unpleasant at best.

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