Wednesday, 30

I woke up this morning with the realization that two exams were looming. With my cold I didn't even want to get out of bed. I made it through the first one at nine a.m. and caught the bus back home, deciding that skipping two classes (one of which I'm taking for no credit) was worth the hour, hour and a half of sleep I could get in between exams.

Then I went home and lay down for precisely thirty-eight minutes before being woken by a phone call from a potential job. I'd already postponed the interview from Tuesday because I was feeling flu-like, but even though I had all the details of the location already, I had to listen to the lady run through directions to get to their office on Thursday. Taking that call, during which I got put on hold twice so she could presumably do the same to two other callers, I missed a call from an old tenant. Let me just say that being a landlord is not worth the hassle. It makes me want to throw up. Luckily my mom knows what to do.

And our home teachers helped too. After encouraging (one might even say goading) one of them (as well as a pinch-hit home teacher, since our second was not available) to leave an Elder's Quorum meeting early to home teach us, I was able to get a blessing. These guys in our ward may be goofy, but there is no doubt that they hold priesthood power.

Tuesday, 29

Dear Sir,

I woke up this morning feeling sick. The kind that isn't quite horrible enough to want to die, but just sinister enough to let you know that it could get that way rapidly if you don't immediately start downing the fluids and sleeping as much as possible. I emailed one of my professors to let her know I'd most likely miss class this afternoon because I wanted to get over this and not spread infection. Testament to the beauty of swine flu awareness, because where normally she might have demanded a doctor's note, she instead emailed me back with "Of course your absence is excused!"

What a shame that we have so little faith in each other until a disease borne of little piggies makes its way to our awareness.

Kayla is engaged. Can you believe it? I got a Facebook group invitation from her wanting my address for invitations this morning and that's how I found out. The group name was something weird, too, something like "Kayla and Craig are gay...together?" I went looking on her Facebook page for her mission call letter video, the one where she had an array of cell phones on speaker laid out in front of her, with parents on either side. They were so excited that she got called to Brazil, the same mission that her dad and (I think) Jay got called to. I watched that video earlier in the spring, but when I went back today to look for it it had disappeared, and there was her relationship status as "Engaged" to some guy whose name sounds familiar but I can't place it. He might well have been one of the masses of guys she'd dated in the past, broken up with, and still remained on good enough terms with to call each one of them on New Years' Eve to chat for half an hour (remember that?). On the other hand, he could be a new model. Who knows.

Stephenie Meyer has announced that The Host will be a film someday. She's gotten the screenwriter for "The Truman Show" involved, which I take to be a very good sign. I liked The Host better than the Twilight series in many ways, except for her annoying tendency to overuse the word "repugnant." Seriously. Seven or eight times in a few hundred pages is noticeable enough to be annoying. I wonder why her editors didn't catch that. There are other words to express distaste.

Victoria's gotten me into watching a show called "Psych," about an extremely observant guy pretending to be a psychic in order to solve crimes. It's well-written and enjoyable so far. I've only seen three or four episodes.

I gave my speech on NaNoWriMo in class yesterday. I think it went pretty well, except that I spoke rather rapidly. When I was practicing last week my times ranged from 6 to 7 minutes, but when I gave it I was wrapping up my third points by the time the T.A. held up a 5-minute sign. Hopefully I was understandable. I have a bad habit of speedy talking, especially when I get nervous.

Monday the Twenty-Eighth

Dear "Sir",

Victoria, ever the pro-active, has gotten people in the ward together to cook. Her enthusiasm surprises me sometimes. We went over to some guys' apartment last night after choir practice (we left early) so they could cook for us. Not having been to their apartment before, we left when they did so we could follow them there. It was fun to watch them in the car ahead of ours; from our vantage point we could see their anguished hand-wringing when they pulled through a yellow light ahead of us, followed by joyful fist pumping as they saw through the rearview mirror that we managed to stay on their tail.

So last night I learned to make Navajo tacos, though I suffered a slight injury when the dough I tried to gently lower into the hot oil ended up backsplashing on me. We played card games and ate yummy fry bread, first with chili and cheese, and then with honey for dessert. It would have been the perfect evening if it weren't for a furry creature one of them owns.

I tell you, people without allergies have no concept of what it is to be allergic to something. They look at you with this weird expression, as if unable to conceive of a condition in which the proximity of a plant or animal can cause you to break out in a rash. It's uncomfortable to see an adorable little kitty cat, and be accompanied with the knowledge that even if that cute little animal is several feet from you, or has just recently vacated the space you now occupy, it can inadvertently cause you to leak many fluids from your face. It's unattractive and annoying and inconvenient to have allergies. And it makes people look at you as if you are a freak.

Not wanting to be an aural nuisance to the other dinner guests with my sneezing and sniffing, I took a Benadryl before going over to their apartment. I was hoping that since the guys were aware of my "condition," the kitty would not make much of an appearance. But Kitty came out to play anyway, and one Benadryl just wasn't cutting it, so I popped another one. Round about nine o'clock, after dinner had been consumed and the card deck was being shuffled, I started to feel the effects -- not in the desired, non-sniffy, non-sneezy way, but in the "side effects may include drowsiness" way.

So, here we have my options where allergens are involved. Decide against the antihistamine and be a sneezy, rashy mess? Or medicate myself and fall into a drug-induced stupor?

Let's try this again.

I am not a blogger. Or at least, I haven't been for some time.

Being a Latter-Day Saint, I'm constantly told to write down my own history. Not to put on public display, mind; at least not the precious stuff. I don't relish the idea of hanging out my dirty laundry for all to see.

But since I've fallen into the very bad habit of not regularly updating my journal, I wonder if having an audience, albeit an invisible one, might help give me the push I need to make this more of a habit.

Of course, once I'm out on my mission this form of recording won't be available to me. Still, I'd like to at least try to get into the habit before I'm wearing the black name tag on my lapel.

I also happen to have a best friend who is currently serving outside of the country. She's available to me through the use of email and ink-and-paper only. So some of my posts here will subsequently be copy-pasted into my updates for her. That is, again, if I can make a regular thing of it.

Beyond that, there's no telling what might appear here. Stories, book reviews, music, musings on what it's like to be...well, me.