Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Ma vie en rose

We had to learn that song in one of my French classes.  I only remember little snibbits of it, so I obviously didn't learn it very well.  But I find myself humming it whenever I think about France.  A la vie du francais!!  My life with rose colored glasses!

Ha.  I don't think I've ever worn rose colored glasses.

I kinda want some now.

I bought my first pair of mission shoes.  I went to the store looking for tennis shoes because they're on my list of things I need to bring and I haven't bought tennis shoes since I was like 11.  Honest.  And the ones I wear now?  I've had since I was 14 or 15 and those I stole from my mom who bought them at Goodwill.  You see my dilemma.  So after a morning of filling orders at the Bishop's Storehouse (Mom said if we didn't get jobs, we could work at home if we volunteered.  Bully,), Cathy (one of my friends who's an RM) Tori and I went to Marshalls hoping to find some tennis shoes for me and a bag for Tori.  Instead we found lovely black comfy mission shooes.  I got very excited and tried to carry them around the store. 

People have started asking me when I'm going through the temple.  I tell them I don't know yet.  Because I really don't, not a specific day anyway.  I know when my bishop and I are meeting to get a reccomend, but that's all.  But here's the point of this:  I'm not going to tell people when I go.  I really don't want people to come to the session.  I'm telling my mom and my dad, and probably my brother and his wife.  At least, that's the plan.  But I don't want anyone else to come.  It's not a family party.  I don't want to worry about all the people there for me.  I know they love me and want to show their support and take part in this special and amazing experience.  The thing is, I like sacred experiences to be private.  Barely a year ago I started sharing personal experiences with other people, and even then it was usually in private.  That's just how I am.  I like to keep sacred things to myself.  Is that terrible?  I don't think so.


I decided to show you all the French national anthem, called La Marseillaise.  And the english translation of the lyrics.  I think it's kind of intense and a little scary.  Cool, right?

Arise children of the fatherland

The day of glory has arrived
Against us tyranny's
Bloody standard is raised
Listen to the sound in the fields
The howling of these fearsome soldiers
They are coming into our midst
To cut the throats of your sons and consorts

To arms citizens Form your battalions
March, march
Let impure blood
Water our furrows

What do they want this horde of slaves
Of traitors and conspiratorial kings?
For whom these vile chains
These long-prepared irons?
Frenchmen, for us, ah! What outrage
What methods must be taken?
It is us they dare plan
To return to the old slavery!

What! These foreign cohorts!
They would make laws in our courts!
What! These mercenary phalanxes
Would cut down our warrior sons
Good Lord! By chained hands
Our brow would yield under the yoke
The vile despots would have themselves be
The masters of destiny

Tremble, tyrants and traitors
The shame of all good men
Tremble! Your parricidal schemes
Will receive their just reward
Against you we are all soldiers
If they fall, our young heros
France will bear new ones
Ready to join the fight against you

Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors
Bear or hold back your blows
Spare these sad victims
That they regret taking up arms against us
But not these bloody despots
These accomplices of Bouillé
All these tigers who pitilessly
Ripped out their mothers' wombs

We too shall enlist
When our elders' time has come
To add to the list of deeds
Inscribed upon their tombs
We are much less jealous of surviving them
Than of sharing their coffins
We shall have the sublime pride
Of avenging or joining them

Drive on sacred patriotism
Support our avenging arms
Liberty, cherished liberty
Join the struggle with your defenders
Under our flags, let victory
Hurry to your manly tone
So that in death your enemies
See your triumph and our glory!

Monday, January 25, 2010


It did really get dark out here when the moon floated full in the sky.  The bream beams waltzed down and shot off the smooth surface of the pond, illuminating the grounds of the manor.  Allyn preferred this type of light.  The sun was often too bright for her eyes and sking, burning patterns of freckles all over her arms and face.  Even though she lived in the heart of California, her skin (besides the many freckles that dotted it) was a milky white.  Norweigans had nothing on the whiter shade of pale her legs wore.  She hated the color.  It made her sick.

Allyn planted her hands on the damp grass and pushed herself up from a slouch.  Long blades pushed between her relaxed fingers and made tiny cuts on her finger dermis.  Allyn didn't even notice the mildly irritating stings; they were nothing compared to her babies' venom.  Even that didn't bother her anymore; she'd developed an immunity to it.

Speaking of her babies, she felt the familiar touch of the six legs crawling on her.  The Honey Girls were safe fliers and never took off in the dark.  Instead, they crawled around the hive.  Once in a while a young, inexperienced Honey Girl wouldn't make it back in time.  Maybe she'd found a patch of flowers far away and got distracted.  Or maybe she didn't catch the whole dance her sister had done and got lost.  Whatever the reason, she was crawling on Allyn's hand.  As soon as she felt the honey girl's tired thorax dragging on her flesh, she lifted her hand to her face.

"Where do you belong, girlie?"  She asked with a tenderness that hardly anyone witnessed.  She tilted her hand so the moon's reflected light hit the Girl just right.  Three colored dots appeared like magic on the girl's back.  She knew exactly where the Girl belonged.

"You're a long way off, Babe."  The softly murmured words mirrored her feelings for the insect.  Carefully, without using the hand with the barbbed visitor, she rose to her feet and walked slowely to a remote white box.  It was one of the newer hives, near the tiny orange grove on the west side of the property.  A sweet and calm walk, it took ten whole minutes to make the twenty yard trek.  Once Allyn reached the white hive, she lowered her hand onto its warm surface.  The Honey Girl crawled quickly off her hand and into her home.  The pale woman smiled, thinking of the one bee she knew lived on.

Her jeans were soaked from sitting in the grass.  Little drops of water dripped from her hems onto the hardowod floor of the foyer.  Knowing Virginia was the only other person home, Allyn felt secure in the fact that no one would see her peel off the wet pants in a common area.  SHe hated the feeling of wet denim between her thighs and always took the first opportunity to remove the sensation.  She carried the pants to a powder roomdownstairs and tossed them carelessly into the footed porceline bathtub.  A member of the household staff would wash them later.

She lingered for a moment, taking in the familiar smell of a scented candle burning away.  Bianca set out the same scents every season.  It was September, so the Juicy Apple candles were placed throughout the manor.  Bianca thought it made the large building more homey; Allyng though it made past seasonal experiences impossible to escape.  Allyn hated the blasted candles, and begged Bianca to mix it up once in a while.  But Bianca was old and could give a crap about Allyn's opinions.  She was here before the girl, and Virginia was the only one she even pretended to listen to.  One time she petitioned to Virginia about the candles.  No dice.  Virginia loves them.  Speaking of Virigina...

"Allyn!  What are you doing?"  Th appalled tone in her voice was familiar.
"Going upstairs."
"Oh of course!" she replied sarcastically.  "I always walk upstairs without pants.  It's a wonder I didn't figure that out immediately."
Allyn stared blankely at the old woman.  Her sarcasm fell flat.
"Really, dear.  Why aren't you wearing any pants?"  The sarcasm was gone and got replaced with concern.  Allyn bristled at the tone.
"Because they were wet.  I didn't want to ruin the... floor."  She tried giving an answer that appealed to Virginia.
"We've already talked about this, Lynn.  Pants, or skirts, are to be worn at all times inside the house.  Except in your room-- wear whatever you want in there."  It sounded like she was saying "don't ask don't tell" to the last part.  Alyyn bristled again at the use of her least favorite nickname.
"No one else lives here."  It was all the explanation Allyn thought was needed.  Apparently Virginia required more, because she stared expectantly at her young, half-naked granddaughter.  Allyn returned her stare, blank eyes shooting back.

Virginia sighed in surrender.  "Fine.  Use your logic.  But I won't tolerate immodesty in the common areas of my home."  She turned around, skirts swishing as she glided to another room.

Allyn stood silently on the staircase, gazing at the spot her grandmother stood moments ago.  The velvet fibers of the rug and risen up and tickled the spaces between her toes.  She hated the feeling of things between her toes.  SO much so, that her focus had been on her discomfort, and not on her grandmother.

Shaking the icky feeling from her feet, she restarted her path upstairs.  With each step, the conversation came back to her, finally breaking through the filter.  As her hand touched the glass knob on her suite's door, she whispered "I'm sorry."

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

poor uncle...

Okay.  So I just had a terrible nightmare.  Actually, the dream in it's entirety wasn't all that terrible.  But the very end, the part that woke me up, was bad.  Very very bad.

I was back at my and Tori's apartment.  A few of my out of state cousins showed up and were visiting us.  Tori loves them and looks forward to seeing them... no matter how annoying they get (darn her and her forgiving spirit).  They're closer to Tori's age than mine, so I never spent all too much time with them.  But here they were, sitting in our living room making polite conversation.  Then their father shows up.  My aunt is no longer married to this man for very very good reasons.  I don't know details; I don't want to know details.  In fact, I can't remember the last time this man even crossed my mind.  Until this morning.

I don't remember what I did to make him mad, but I did something.  He suddenly yelled at me, grabbed me by my arm, and started dragging me through the hallway.  I started yelling "NO! NO! NO! NO!" as loud as I possible could because that's what my self defense class taught me.  I tried to hammerfist his arm... he was too far behind me.  When I tried to kick between his legs he stepped backwards.  Everything I tried he anticipated and continued to drag me down the apartment complex's hall.  The worst part?  THere were tons of girls outside and none of them did anything.  They just watched.  I told myself "Scream 'I'm getting attacked!' or something!!"  But everytime I tried a full sentence I had no breath.

Eventually one of my teachers saw this and tackled him to the ground in her knee length pencil skirt.  Tori came to her office to pick me up and fill out some paperwork.  I sobbed as I told her what happened and she calmly focused her attention on the forms.  She was grinding her teeth.  Don't know how I know it, but I do.  She took my hand and walked me home, silent the whole time.

That was probably one of the least realistic and scariest dreams I've ever had.  Why didn't any of the girls help?  It was obvious that he was dragging me somewhere to do something bad.  Why didn't they DO something???

I don't know.  But now I'm going to pull out the book we used in my selfdefense class and refresh myself on all the techniques.  Because I've got the willies.....

Thursday, January 14, 2010

to be or not to be


It's funny the little distractions that pop up when you get a mission call.  All those things that made you want to leave on the mission so badly suddenly seem amazing.  Not like I've experienced that.... uh nope, not me... STOP LOOKING AT ME THAT WAY!!

My friend and I have exchanged mission addresses so we can write to each other.  I've known this boy since I was 13 or 14, so we're pretty good chums.  It's pretty nice, actually.  All of my friends are coming home from their missions and I'm just leaving!!  But this boy and I will be out the same time, so I'm excited to have a friend out having similar experiences while I am.  I'm very excited.

And sleepy.

And sneezy.

And goofy.

And... I can't think of any other dwarves.




Friday, January 8, 2010

IF a photo says a thousand words...

then I'll let this one speak for me...

I report march 24.