J'ai finis...

C'est vrais. J'ai finis.


Now... what?

Friday, December 18th

Only five days left of undergraduate work, and I still avoid studying by being on blogspot. Funny.


Yup, you heard me. I graduate in five days. Friday I bought a blouse for Graduation. Yesterday I got the nerve to try on my cute little black cap. And today? It's my last sculpture class for who knows how long. EEEK!! I'm going to miss that three hour afternoon class. Okay, not the three hours in the afternoon part. But I'll miss the rest. Not Brother Geddes' horrific and constant teasing and challenging everything I say until I cry. But I'll miss the clay. I'll miss my chance to vent my stale emotions through a medium that doesn't hurt anyone.

I'm already half packed. In fact, all I have left to pack is kitchen and bathroom stuff. One thing I won't miss? Rexburg housing. Honestly. I'm sick of how all this student housing is run. It's like a nazi prison camp without all the privacy a prison camp affords you.

Five more days.

The only class I worry about is my Cognition class. I have to get an 80% on my final to get a C. All I need is a C- to graduate. I'll get at least an 80%, no problem. I find all my cognition tests to be easy, if I put a little study time in. Speaking of which....


Okay. Fine. I'll study.

Gag.




PS- I dreamt that the Govenator was my body guard, but he failed and this psycho-killer was coming to get me and my child (I don't have a child, in case you were wondering). My interpretation: The idea of California will not protect me from my psycho finals. I need to study.

And get less sleep, apparently.

Don't let your roommates give you plastic surgery...

I mean it. Don't. How does this topic come up? As most of my off the wall posts do-- I had a dream.


First off, I'm tired of Evil Kacey dreams.

Just want to put that out there.

Secondly, I was up here in Rexburg in my dream. I saw stitches on my hairline. Huh. What's that all about? Apparently I let my old roommate give me a face lift. Well, it didn't turn out all that bad, though I must admit the thought of a face lift ne'er crossed my mind. Then I noticed something else was wrong. My middle toe on my right foot was broken. And my knee couldn't bend very well. And something was wrong with my hip, I don't remember what. It turns out, I let my old roommate give me a leg lift too. Now, I never thought I'd get a leg lift (which is just like a face lift on your leg. Sounds pretty pointless to me too), but I certainly felt the urge last night. My roommate, however, hadn't done one o those before and pulled the skin too tight, and so my foot falanges couldn't fit in my skin. I had a dislocated toe. And here's the worst part: I couldn't stop messing with it. I kept poking my dislocated falange, and Carolyn, the amazing surgeon, said she would fix it for me.

Oh. Great.

I laid on the picnic table (we were at a public park) and waited for her to give me anesthetic. I realized when she approached me with a scalpel that she wasn't going to give me one.

Holy. Crap.

Anyway, I woke up to the sound of Ron White's irritatingly gravelly voice (forgot that CD was in my alarm clock) and was saved from certain plastic surgery death.


The end.


PS- Satan is a bus driver.

Funny how that works...

Last week was terrible. Beyond terrible. First thing was my rant: that rant exemplifies how my friend has been treatin me, and this week I finally got sick of it. I ended up limiting our major contact, and say hi occasionally to him at work. That's all. As hard as it has been, I've noticed a major boost in my self image and confidence. So: good thing. But also hard. Becuase we see each other everywhere. And I don't think he's caught up to the fact that I've massively cut him out of my life. Yup, that's how close we were.

Secondly: My mission papers got sent in. Again. Here's what happened: my stake president and my bishop are not exactly on the same page, which led to my medical forms being lost for three weeks. Yup. All this time I was waiting for my mission call... and now it's going to come after Christmas to California. Which is fine, really. But what a HUGE shock!! That was a crappy day. To top it all off, that same night was my very close friends' engagement party at Craigos. Guess who our mutual friend is? yup. Him. I made Tori come as my date so I would have someone to talk to.

But yesterday during fast and testimony meeting, an inumerous amount of people told the congregation how terrible their week was. After scoffing at the first five, I finally smiled to myself.

Sure, my week was bad. But that doesn't make me anydifferent or any less tried than all those people.

My conclusion was to get off my high-horse and move on.

Updates on how that goes later.