Come Fly Away. Or don't.

I wrote this whilst on my way home from Provo:

"I’m sitting here on the airplane, and here’s what I think. Flying is the worst. If man was meant to fly, they should figure out a less stressful way to do it. Every time I go on a plane, I come out feeling greasy and disgusting. Can somebody please explain why this happens? Actually don’t, if I knew I would probably never get on a plane again.

I’m not one of those people who is afraid to fly, I don’t expect the engine to come flying off, or the plane to crash to the ground, or for there to be some horrifying monster on the wing that is out to get William Shatner. It’s just … not fun. First of all, you have to get there mega early, or at least I do so I don’t get too stressed, and then once you get through security, you sit and wait. And then you get on the plane and you sit and wait. And then the plane takes off and you sit and wait. The plane lands and you sit and wait. Finally they taxi you to the gate and you sit and wait. When you finally get off the blasted plane, you have to wait for your baggage, which is not guaranteed to have arrived.

From previous experiences, I know that my flight and whole travel day could have gone much worse. And I am thankful for a quick way to travel across the country, so that I will be home in a matter of hours."

And that is as far as I got. I am so thankful to be home now, and yes, it took a while to get my bags. But they were all there.

That's it.

Time isn't on my side.

I don't don't don't don't don't like packing. I have too too too too too much stuff. Why? WHY? It's not even possible to fit all of your life into a suitcase, and it is so miserable to pack it all away.

It is weird some of the things I own. I have come across kiddy rings, folders, posters, letters, 3 different student IDs, candles, spoons. spoons everywhere, 4 million socks with no matchies and pretty much anything that I have lost throughout the semester that I had been wondering about its wherabouts.

And it seems that any time I find something that I haven't seen for a while, and I don't know what to do about it, I just wear it. I had on two headbands, two rings, sunglasses, and I've changed my shirt twice.

Also, I had my first final this morning. It is cruel and unusual punishment that they have finals that start at 7 in the morning. I am not smart that early in the morning. It's just foolish. It took me three tries to get my shirt on properly. First it was inside and backward, then it was just backward. ugh. no fun. And I have another one on Thursday.

Ok, back to packing. I sure hope my dearest mommy is planning on buying me some clothes to take place of the ones I am going without when I go home... :)

Two more days left at Bountiful Court. Two more days left of my third year of college. 7 more days left in Utah. How did this even happen?

Warning: Subject matter not fascinating.

I keep having that feeling lately that I am forgetting something that I have to do. Like there is some huge assignment that I need to turn in that I haven't done yet. But then I remember that the only responsibilities I have left are to take three more tests. That's it. Oh yeah, and pack up all my personal belongings and put them into storage. Boo. On Saturday I sat down and finished my ten-page paper for my Discourse Analysis class. Super fun. But now I am done, and no final for that class either. Yay!

On a completely unrelated note, but one that I keep being reminded of as I type this, the "e" on the keyboard of my laptop broke off. It's incredibly problematic and annoying. I wish I had the skill of not using this letter as I typed, but that's really difficult. I MacGyvered it back together with a very shotty taping job, but it doesn't make a satisfying click as I type, and I don't always push it successfully. I'm very angry at my computer. I don't even know how it happened. I was just sitting there typing when suddenly the "e" was sticking to my finger instead of the computer. This fact merely makes my ten-page paper much more impressive.

In eight days, I will be back in good, ol' Maryland. I am determined to make amends with the state before my parents move out to Utah. Maryland and I have a strained relationship. It's pretty rocky. I don't think it likes me very much, but this summer I am going to show Maryland that I am awesome, and there is no reason for it to be intimidated by me. Silly, Maryland. Also, I'm super excited to see my parents. And J-Dawg and Kimba will be there. Not J-Dawg the hot dog franchise, although that would be so awesome. They should expand.

I feel like this blog post isn't all that interesting. Next fall I am taking a creative writing class. Maybe that will inspire some more interesting material.

Please somebody come pack for me. I can't handle it.

Knock, Knock. Who's there? Boo.

I was just reading a friend's blog, and the first sentence of one of her posts was, "I am not a crier." She then proceeded to list the few times she remembers crying. As I was reading, I was thinking, well that's just not me. Because I...

I am a crier. I cry all the time. For no real reason at all sometimes. I spent a lot of time just last week crying. And it was mainly because I was stressed and trying to make a big decision in my life (I'm going back to MD for the summer, bee tee dubs) and it caused me to just weep all the time.

My dear sister still doesn't let me live down the fact that I cried in Flipper. I guess it sure affected me. Maybe little, baby Elijah Wood just got to me. Maybe I was really sad about whatever problem Flipper was having. What is Flipper even about anyway? I just know there's a dolphin. Whatever it was, it must have been devastating. But probably not really, because I'm sure any member of my family would happily share with you the countless times that we've been sitting in a movie and they hear the sniffling. There were times that I physically couldn't sit through an entire movie because I couldn't even handle how much I was crying. Bridge to Terabithia for one. That movie was not properly advertised.

When I upset my parents, cry. When I see an especially touching episode of Psych, I maybe will cry. When I am dating a boy and then I am not, I cry, regardless of who may have wanted out.

I'm not writing all this because I want to be all, "Oh I'm sad all the time, feel bad for me!" Because I'm not sad all the time. I'm not even sad most of the time. It's just something I do. I love my life, and when I'm happy, I smile, when something is funny, I laugh, when I am angry, I ...be angry. I'm like Denzel in Remember the Titans (which, yes, I totally cried in). My emotions reside mostly on my sleeves. And it is something that has made me strong I think. Some people have issues about being open with people, and that's never really been my problem.

For the majority of my life, I was pretty ashamed of this quality. But that's just silly. I can't exactly control the fact that when I am upset, I start leaking. It's just a part of me. I am still happy with who I am, and have now accepted the crying factor of my life enough that I don't have to be embarrassed that I cried in The Village. Yeah, I know. I've learned to embrace it. It's just the way I roll.