an app for that?

I realized today, while doing some life pondering in the shower, that I don't look at people when I talk to them. I have a real eye contact problem. I mean this seems to happen no matter what!
Someone will ask me a question, and I'm like "all eyes on you!" but then when I go to respond my focus will wander from just them, to everything around them, as if the tree to their left has an opinion to offer up as well or something. I always feel bad about this stupid issue I have, but never enough to stop looking at the tree, or the piece of fluff in the air right by their ear. Sometimes I do this weird skipping around thing, where I'll look at the tree, then their nose, then a cloud to the right, then back at their nose again - never quite directly in their eyes, and before I know it I'm dizzy in the head and can't remember my train of thought or anything I just said and I begin rambling on and on about something that I think might answer their question, but then I get off on this long tangent like I am now and before you know it I'm ending with an "and, like...yeah..."

Snapple

When I wake up this morning, I feel like Alexander - sure that it will be a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, and VERY bad day. No real surprises there - that's normally how you feel after a rough night's rest and a late start in the morning. And it had been a very rough night.
After waking up, I make the brilliant decision to stay in bed for a few more seconds, you know - so I can "plan out my day", and all that jazz. Two seconds later and it's now 11. I'm to meet with some classmates in 10 minutes to run over our lines, so I roll out of bed, throw on a sweatshirt and jeans and run out the door. It quickly proves to be colder than sweatshirt weather, but I'm already late so I decide to just cut through buildings and tough it out. When I reach the library to print off my lines for class, I find the only available computer shut down. So I reboot it and decided to order a breakfast from the library cafe while I wait. I figure it'd be smart to get something in my body.
I try to mentally let the lady behind the counter know how much of a hurry I'm in, while also glancing precariously at the computer screen booting up, hoping to see the words 'log in' appear.
But they never come.
I walk back over and do the silly 'hit random buttons and shake the mouse' dance we all do when we're desperate for something to change, but it only makes things worse - so I just shut the whole thing down again and move over to the one next to me (the girl there having just left). She seems to have shut hers down too, so I push the reboot button then shuffle back to the counter to pick up my bagel and ice cold strawberry kiwi snapple drink: you know - the drink from heaven? The one I've been dreaming about all morning? I place it in my drink pocket - knowing I'm in a hurry and wont have time to sip until later.
Coming back to the screen I find it still loading - and I'm now five more minutes late for my meeting, so I give up and run out the door. Luckily my class is in the building right to me, so I'm only out in the snow for a few seconds before reaching the warm hallway: just enough time to note how pretty yet cold it looks outside.
I start climbing the stairs, and next thing I know I'm on the floor - something shattering beneath me. Snapple drink is quickly decorating the stair way, and I groan as I realize I've tripped over my feet again. I've become rather adapt at that.
Just when I'm about to sink back down to the floor, the girl nearest me immediately stops to help. Saying something beautiful like "I'll go grab paper towels", she runs back up the stairs and disappears. I'm still staring at the floor when no less than four more girls offer to help. I politely decline, saying someone's already gone for towels, but a few of them stop anyway, and set down their bags. Three more disappear for towels as I begin picking up the broken pieces of glass. Another helps me guide people around the mess and on through the stairs. Every single person, coming up and down, offers to help or - if in a rush like me, gives an appreciated look of sorrow. Feeling an enormous love for these strangers, I thank them but show them we're fine, and begin to pick up even more bits of broken glass. That's when I see the blood running down my hand. Apparently picking up glass with your bare hands is not the way to go.
Some more girls appear with paper towels, and I grab one to stop the bleeding. I'm still feeling so grateful for these awesome strangers when another shows up at the bottom of the stairs with a towel and says she's called the janitor and he'll be here in a minute. She starts cleaning up what's fallen to the bottom floor, as the first girl turns back to me and says something beautiful again - something like "Are you late for class? Why don't you go get that finger cleaned up and we'll finish up." I want to run and hug this angel, but they kept telling me to go, and I know the rest of my group was waiting for me outside of class. We only had two minutes now to run over our lines before presenting.
I walk into the room with a bloody hand and a destroyed meal - but a grateful heart.
Realizing, however, that I still don't have my lines, I momentarily panic - whipping out my computer and planning on simply reading from the screen if needs be. But then my professor saves the day by deciding to start class with a review - giving me plenty of time to copy my notes onto note cards before we begin.
And then another girl in my class makes my day even more amazing by whipping out a bag of snickerdoodles and anouncing that she had made treats for us all to share.
And then my teacher lets us out early to get started on our final papers for next week.
And then I walk down the stairs and see the cleaned steps and I wanted to hug everyone again.
And then I go outside and its no longer snowing.
And then I go home and log on my computer - ready to start my mountain of papers. But even then - with the prospect of hours of homework ahead - God will not let me mope! It seems he is determined to remind me how pointless sorrow can be - and how crucial a good attitude.
I log onto my student e-mail to see I have a message from the financial aid department. Thinking it's merely some more fees I owe, I switch over to my awards page to see the amount.
$500.
$500 in my account. Wait...what? In? Yup! Right there - next to the amount is the word 'award' - Faith Aagard Gormley award - $500! I have NO idea what I did to receive this grant, NO idea how the money got in my account, by I'm secretly hugging every single person in a ten mile radius, and thanking whoever Faith Gormley is for being the most awesome human being on the planet right now. Then I google her and find out she's dead - which I should have guessed simply because it's some award - so I thank her for being the most awesome person in Heaven right now.

So, sitting here, typing with band-aids on my fingers and an empty stomach, I can't help but be glad.

Rexburg is a beautiful place, no? While I still have four papers to write, a film to watch, three tests to study, six chapters and one book to read, I am grateful to find myself surrounded by people just as busy as I with such generous hearts. This school is remarkable, and I am thankful every day to be a part of it.

I don't know what it is - but God has something great planned for me. He has something great planned for all of us - and I'm grateful I've finally wised up enough to stop trying to get there myself.

He knows what he's doing, even if I don't. He knows what I need - broken pieces of glass and all.

musings on a minute

Often, we think in increments of time.
It is only natural, as this is how we were born into the world.
I, for instance, was born at 8:48 pm, on the fifth day of the third week on the seventeenth day in the first month in the year of 1992.
That's a lot of numbers.

We act through what we know, and what we know is time: clocks, watches, sundials, programs, calendars, bells, schedules, alarms - these set the standard for our daily activity. We move in and out of action based on this thing called 'time'; in and out of days, in and out of weeks, in and out of years, in and out of lives...

But what does time profit a man?
A little order to chaos?
Oh, how 'little' that order may be; when we claim to lose time, claim to need time, claim to never have enough time...It's all foolishness really, for time was invented for structure and demand. Time was invented for mortal minds.

We cannot see this thing which is nothing.
So why let it cause so much pain?

If time is for man - a temporal purpose at best - then let us use it for such a cause.

Do not let impatience cloud God's work.
His clock runs different than ours.

Wet
(Sheep Falls on The Henry's Fork)

Battered, bruised, broken;
I cannot move for pain.
Thousands undivided:
Pressing down on my skin
Damp jaws devour my flesh,
Guiding bits on with their moist
Saliva and blood.
The torrential battle forever
Raging on: the force consumes me.
Those below scream for help,
For benevolence.
Friends now enemies and enemies
Friends as each tattered break
Moves us closer toward eternity's end.

Some call me endless -
A base, a foundation, a rock -
But here I am, wounded,
Water's oppressed foe.
Droplets a battalion
Ending my everlasting soul.

Time and pressure plague all.

11.11.11

Today I am thankful -

It may not be much -

But today

I am thankful

For love and such.

the most wonderful time

I love November. It is perhaps my favorite month of the year (next only to January and December). This three month span is by far the happiest for me, regardless of circumstances in life. It doesn't matter what's going on in the world, I am almost always found with a smile on my face. The crisp air is part of it, to be sure - but the wonderful music, happy people and addictive holiday spirit all play a part as well. And of course there's the food...
I don't necessarily have a specific reason for loving this season so much, but love it I do, and love it I will.

I embraced the designer in me the other day and redid my entire room - starting with the bed. Since I have no roommate I decided to push the extra bed next to mine, creating one huge, brightly colored and totally bounceable bed. It totally opened up the entire room, and for some reason seeing it look so pretty has motivated me to not only make my bed each morning (something I have never done in my life...ever), but to also keep things in their proper place. I've been getting better at the whole 'keeping your room clean' bit since college (partly because you can get thrown out to the streets for a messy room here) but now I actually want to be in a clean room! I know I'm a bit behind on this - but really, I've never felt so accomplished before - having such a clean and spacey room! It's spectacular.

I've also been cooking more: making homemade meals instead of eating frozen foods, and eating three meals a day! (That's a new one for me too - I hardly ever eat breakfast.) Even though I don't have class till 11, I've started waking up at 8 each day, and today I even did it with a smile on my face - no grumbling at all! I've been saying my morning and evening prayers without forgetting, running much more frequently than I used to, and I've even found time to practice - something I've been missing out on for a long while now. And I can't even feel my achy arm anymore because I'm just happy I can still play! It makes me wish I had a piano in my room - but I suppose the walk is good for me, even in this windy weather.

I'd like to credit these changes to my spectacular awesomeness as a human being, but I know it has got to be something in the air, because I've always wanted to be this person I've become and it hasn't happened till now. The desire was always there, but the action wasn't, you know? There's just something about this season that finally provoked me off my lazy butt - and boy am I grateful.

It's only the 2nd day of the month, but so far - November rocks.

Semi Indifference

I hear nothing as I step from the wreckage and glass, feel nothing as I scrape spent feet across the road, taste nothing but the linger of sleep in the air, and it’s as if I’m floating through time – time that does not exist.

There is no time here.

Family fragments the road – brothers here, a father there, my mother unmoving; small.

Confusion seeps through the air. Confusion I can’t breathe in, and a ringing fills my ears now – a ringing that won’t stop. It numbs the world and I fight back, screaming in my head for the sounds to be heard, screaming for feeling to penetrate those walls of nothing clouding my mind.

People are moving and words fills the air: air I cannot breathe –air I’ve replaced with vomit as the unmoving time spills from my empty lungs and the ruined meal hits the pavement.

I try to suck in something other than death, but it seems to thicken and dampen the sky. Unpleasant and dry, my damaged soles fumble to greener sides – to the patch of grass not far from here.

And then voices stream through my mind: People are talking again, fragmented words penetrate my lungs, replacing the air I’ve procured.

“Quick! Move!”

“There’s fire under the car! You need to get out of here!”

“What happened? What’s going on?”

“Are you alright?”

“Someone call for help!”

I want to breathe, all I want is to breathe, but the air will not come. I do not wish to speak, but I must before nothing reigns: I must be heard.

“Can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

I think someone hears but I shut off my mind and focus on the air around me: focus on the struggle to let it in; to allow it to break through the iron clad shell that has sprung up around my chest.

Someone is shouting: words are spoiling the air, but I stop them as they turn toward me; stop them from colliding with my already damaged body.

Then I see it – the looming giant. A shadow of a childhood dream; the nightmarish monster cloaked in dark. It’s the cause of my heaving chest and blackened soles: the cause of the pain I wish to feel, pain masked by the echo of youthful fright.

Memories and fears from a childish brain seal my leaking lungs and trap the hungry search for air inside.

I feel the dark shadow begin to extend – see it flowing from the monster like a whispered spell of night. Everything it touches turns to silence. Everything it clouds turns to death. I turn back toward the giant, unmoving and still. Indifferent, hardhearted, cold – he does not care for our fear. He does not care for our suffering.

I’m struggling for air, struggling to pull breathe from the hellish nightmare before me when the words come once more:

“B-breathe! I can’t breathe!”

It comes as a croak, the darkness filling my lungs like smoke from a cigarette, slowly eroding my life from within.

Will no one hear? Will no one stop the night from coming?

The unfeeling shadow is near me now. I see its fingers reach toward my unguarded soles, grasping my feet and the clasp of death dragging me down…down…

And then light fills the silence of fear! Light breaks the firm hold on my soles and I’m standing once more!

A man appears in my sight and lowers me to the ground. He’s strapping something around my neck and I feel the cold plastic harden my resolve. Something is placed in my mouth, then my nose, then round my arm and finally I breathe! I feel the cold life seep through every pore; through every crack in my shell and shatter the remains of death. My body is lifted on the bed of defense and we speed away from the threatening nightmare – away into the morning light.

Breathing in normal again, familiar, as if it never left. The tubes flow round me like an encompassing blanket, a comforter of hope. For a moment I’m peaceful, for a moment I’m calm.

A small voice brings me back, lost and confused.

I see my brother, Jim, on a bed like mine: his neck braced in a protective glove of plastic. Questions fill the air once more.

“Where am I?”

“An ambulance.”
“Why am I here? What happened?”

“You crashed.”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

“Don’t you remember?”

“No.”

He seems to be asking the same questions over and over again. Unsure of where we are or what has occurred. I respond this time.

“We crashed Jim. We crashed. We were hit by a semi.”

No comprehension floods his face, as it so often does when a jokes been explained. He seems to be grasping for the punch-line, waiting patiently for a sensible man to answer his query with logic. Searching for reason as I searched for air.

The man begins to speak again, and this time he’s filling the questioned silence with stories and I smile, listening to the hopes of life fill the air. But then I’m gone and he’s smiling in the distance as they roll me through the welcoming doors, and an acrid smell fills my lungs – the smell of vinegar and cotton swabs and death and I’m scared for a moment that I’ve forgotten how to breathe. And even though the machine pumping air into me is still whirling with life I hear death, think death, see death, feel death…

A scream.

A dreadful scream punctures the air as they wheel me into a room and I see my mother, shattering the sky with more fear than a lifetime can procure and her echoing sounds of pain reverberate off my momentary resolve and extinguish the light.

Before I find time – before I can panic I’m surrounded by faces in coats and they’re poking and prodding me, removing my layers of comfort and restraint, replacing them with thin layers of nothing and then wheeling me out to begin their tests: wheeling me into a dark closet of a room.

There’s another monster in here, filling the dark space in a huddling mass. I know it will tell me nothing good, so I squirm a little as they wheel me toward it. It whispers words in my ear as it fills my eyes with light…The words grow louder and louder, the lights faster and faster until I can no longer distinguish sounds from sights and sights from sounds. I feel my heart turn to living muscle and it’s beats synchronize those from above as I close my eyes to the noise. Colorful dots cross my lids and I hear them eat through my body like a parasitic bug.

Finally my heart slows, turning back to dust as the monster calms and I’m pulled away, back into the room with Mom. There’s silence in the air.

Silence.

She’s quiet now.

No time passes once more till the coats are back, telling me I’ll have to leave, telling me I’ll have to go north for help and they’re wheeling me away before the answers come and I see a line of brothers in the hall, waving goodbye as we flock through the exiting doors and into the back of yet another car.

I feel nothing, until we move.

This ride is bumpy and shoots pain through my lungs. A woman is speaking to me and I find myself longing for the nice man and his stories, longing for someone other than this irritating coat. She keeps asking me how I feel and I can’t seem to make her understand that I don’t. These pains aren’t the problem, I think as she quiets, and I look again for something to fill the emptiness inside.

Time is still missing, and before I can find it I’m on a ground floor of another hospital – in a temporary room filled with indifference. I think momentarily of the still monster on the road as they place me on a bed now, a real bed. I see the remote placed next to my head. Eyes finding the screen, I click it on and see tennis. I watch the ball move back and forth…back and forth…back and forth…and then the nurse is back, and finally I know why I’m here.

Internal bleeding. Damage to your spleen. A tear – weeks of recovery.

The words are foreign to me. She talks more, speaking the words as if she’s rehearsed them a hundred times and I shut her out as I search again for that hole inside.

I find I’m looking for emotion, some kind of relief or dread; fear or joy…but find nothing instead, nothing slowly carving out my organs, destroying my heart – hollowing my body and eating everything inside.

I stop the search. There’s no reason to look anymore.

The hardest emotion is the feel of indifference.

I turn back toward the screen, my unfilled shell sinking into the folds of the bed and I watch as the ball moves once more.