It has been one year, nearly to the day, since I last logged on to this secret little nugget of memories. In my defense it was a fanatically intense year, and definitely one I will never forget, but now that the storm has subsided to a degree I find myself once again itching to write.
For the record, I really can't give myself credit for remembering this thing. A very good friend of mine actually started one up himself, and when he told me about it I recalled an assignment in my Creative Writing class last year that required me to have one. I then proceeded to attempt to find it/log in. After about ten minutes of incorrect passwords, captcha's, random questions about my childhood pets, etc. I actually got in. Eureka!
So now as I sit here on this beautiful February day, listening to my sister croon out of these derisory laptop speakers, drinking a cup of my favorite tea, I can't quite decide what I'd like to write about; what would be significant enough to share. I suppose I don't have a lot to live up to. There are only so many posts on here already, and most of them were cop out poetry that I pulled from my notebook and posted to get a grade. On the other hand, a whole years worth of writing has now passed. Perhaps with no specific target in mind, I'll just attempt to (as briefly as possible) recap the events of my eighteenth year.
[
an ironic postcard I found one Sunday on the PostSecret blog]
I think it's probably safe to say that I did a lot more brooding and complaining about my senior year than any polite young woman who is about to graduate from grade school should. After all, I was finally in the home stretch of the homework riddled late night early morning routine that was high school. However. In my case the circumstances were stretched to an uncomfortably frenzied state. As previously discussed, my family moved from our nine year home in Mesa to the lovely Lehi, Utah the summer before my senior year. Aside from the black hole of nearly comatose depression that consumed me in the face of my social decapitation, there was the issue of my school classes and credits. At my high school in Mesa, I was on track to graduate. Even with my music stuffed schedule, I had fulfilled all the core credits I needed to comfortably complete my senior year and graduate with my class. But the Alpine school district was set up entirely differently than mine. I ended up having to take about four sophomore classes during the day, as well as an online bowling class, American History, and all sorts of ridiculous stuff like that.
That American History is what really killed me. Aside from the hundreds of dollars spent on extraneous classes, this one was a multi-faceted full-frontal student torture program. I had to
purchase packets of information and review work,
purchase the coursebook to read from, and drive myself
repeatedly to the specific campus that the "packet school" was based in. HOURS of brain and energy grinding work went in to that stupid semester. And by the time that deadline was a week or so away, I wasn't half finished. Classes, finals, work, and three months of Am. History were all crammed into about a week and a half. I barely escaped with my life. And by some freakish miracle, I actually got it done. By the split piece of an angel hair I made it in time to graduate with my class. If you couldn't tell, I'm still quite a bit bitter about the whole thing. I don't think I'll ever forget what that hell felt like, and it's a good thing too. My children will never be subjected to a move like that at such a crucial time.
But anyway. Before the steam starts pouring out of my ears again, I'm content to leave the horror story at that and move on to the exciting twist at the end of the story. On August 31, 2008, my dear friend Meagan and I packed up our cars and made the painstaking twelve hour drive back to Mesa. We signed the lease on our first apartment, and began quite a different adventure than high school.
[To be continued...]
Then there's the very Gabe inspired camera mug.
I've got a feeling this one was probably photo shopped, but it still looks cool. And let's not forget the odd, yet tender pregnant mug.
I've got all sorts of weird random things. From boats and cakes, to shoes and baby onesies with symbols of fully charged batteries on them. Enjoy, and consider this a small taste of the oddities you may or may not see in the future. Maybe next time I'll display my collection of unique band-aid's. Cheers!
