Unity Village.

Experimentalities.

I love banana bread. So, I was thinking the other day: what would banana bread taste like as a sandwich. Yes, that is strange. I've never tried it, but I thought it would be a very interesting taste to discover. Sort of like chocolate on pop-corn -which isn't actually as good as it sounds. Really.

It was brought up at work the other day, the banana bread sandwich. I was talking with one of my co-workers about judging things before ever trying them. We were talking about beliefs and somehow it ended on the note of ever having tried the sandwich. Anyway, I told my co-worker that I would have to try it sometime. He said that he had no doubt that he would like it. He likes banana bread and he likes sandwiches. Why the two couldn't co-exist together made no sense in his mind. But then, he's never tried one. As of today, I have. And let me tell you, mayonnaise and banana bread should not, not ever in the experimentalities in the recipe world, exist in the same sandwich. It was gross! I was lucky I guess when the sandwich sort of fell apart. I like the bread with thick slices and as a sandwich it didn't hold together very well. But the mayonnaise. Bleh! I like mayonnaise. I do. I could eat that stuff on plain bread. Just not banana bread. So, take if from a sandwich artist, don't ever try it!

Oh, and I have a question. During a discussion I had not long ago with my hosts the topic came up of my family's common peanut butter and honey sandwich. Much to my surprise, one of my cousins declared that they never did care for the thing and the other said that she had never tried it. I was shocked! I love peanut butter and honey sandwiches! The thought of never having tried it was...well...unthinkable! So. I was wondering. Have you ever tried it? Or is there anything, much like the banana bread sandwich, that you've tried before?

Here are those "good shots"

Somnolent.

I. Am. Very. Tired.

I went down to my parents house on Wednesday. I woke up at five in the morning and left just thirty minutes afterward. I had a sort of thing planned and I wanted to get as much sunlight in as possible. I wanted to go around town and take pictures. Now, I probably wouldn't normally wake up quite so early just for the sake of pictures, but for some reason, Wednesday was an exception. I got some really good shots, I'll have to post them later. So, Wednesday was just a lot of driving and then I went to bed late that night -I always do when I go to my parents. Then, I got up at about five again -my sisters have seminary and can't get ready without turning all the lights on -ugh.

-And then Thursday. That was what tuckered me out the most. I had my orthodontics appointment in Arkansas. Long drive. And then I had lunch with my parents, then had lunch again at my Grandparents house with some of my cousins. It was there were I fell into a fifteen minute power nap that seemed to have to opposite effect. It made me even more tired! After that I went back to my parents', spent the evening in town and didn't get back until about ten o'clock. Thrity mintues later I left, took the two and a half hour drive -which actually turned into a full three, I'll explain in a sec. And then finally got home at about one in the morning. I finally went to bed around two and then had to wake up to go to work at eight. ...I am so tired.

On the drive home, from my parents last night I got lost. Well, not so much lost... Well. it was very dark. I was listening to my radio and let my thoughts wonder. When I finally came-to I realized that nothing looked familiar anymore. I took the next exit and turned back around to find my "missed" turn. Well, I realized later that I hadn't actually missed it and that it must have been just past where I was before. So I turned around and tried again. I'm not sure why. I was really tired. My brain started sputtering and I thought that I had gone too far. So, I took the same exit -the one I had taken in the first place -and then turned around again. It was then that I decided to remove all doubt and just continue down this road until I came to the exit where I had first left from. I was so frustrated! I had wasted so much time and gas! I finally turned around, for the last time, and drove until I found the exit. (It was only ten minutes from the exit I had first turned around on. If I had just kept going...)

And then this morning. I had work at my fast food job and I drove in early to get a good start on getting the store ready. Well, as I pulled into the parking lot I had to ask myself why there were no cars. Usually when I get here the lot is full! What was going on? I stopped the car and before I had a chance to put the car in park I realized something. I was in the wrong place. The wrong job entirely. I was at my retail job and not my fast-food one. Oops. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Lucky for me they were only two lots away from each other. No harm done.

Work wasn't too good though. My body just went through all the usual motions while my brain sat idle. I kept dropping things. I hardly spoke to anyone, afraid that I would say something really stupid. And I kept forgetting what I was doing. I had to stand there and think really hard. But it wasn't too bad, I guess. If you think about it. I hope that I have better luck with my next job today.

Dull Excitement

So, I was thinking yesterday, of all the exciting things going on in my life. The more I thought, the more carried away I got! Eventually, I told my-self that I needed to post something on my blog about said exciting things.

...Well, here I am. Posting. Only. I have nothing to post. I lied. My life isn't as exciting as I thought...

Here's the run down of yesterday (the rest of my week is too dull to even bring up). I worked at my fast food job. Got fed up with the "new guy" who wouldn't stop inviting me to hang out (What does he think I am? Dumb or something?). Then I went to the bank to cash my check. Blah. Blah. Blah. I went to the library. Paid a bill. Stressed myself out. Went to my other job. And Oh! I do have something to say!

Yesterday at my other job -wow! There's a story. Well a very boring one...

Everyone hates Self-Checkout. The words Self and Checkout should never be put together. You'd be surprised at how often people don't see or understand the "self" part. I'm standing right there to help, and people just think that I'm there to do the work for them. Not that that's bad, it's just. Annoying. Anyway. I was sent there first and as I was logging in, the system locked me out. "You are not authorized to do anything." The lady of a machine said, in her usual pitch. (She gets so annoying sometimes! I mean, Holly Cow! Even the customers think she's annoying.)

Well, I tried logging in to the checkouts themselves and then the computer next to it. Nothing. Needless to say I started to panic. My first thought was honestly "Have I been fired and no one's told me??" Well, that quickly left after I remembered who the manager was tonight. No. She would have told me right off if I had been fired. Her and I. Well, we more or less butt-heads most of the time. I never know how to take her. Anyhow. I went over to her and told her of my situation. That it wouldn't log me in. I'll never forget the look she gave me. It made me want to spit!

"Did you forget your password?" She asked in the only tone I've ever heard her use.

Ha! Yeah, sure. The password that I've been typing nearly every day, four times a day, for the past three months I just up and forgot. Yeah. That's it. Totally. Pshh. -Don't think I was rude though. I really wasn't. I just turned around and went back to my station, it was obvious that she wasn't going to help me. This I was on my own with. And with four lines of customers, it was not a stress-free thing. I logged into the computer and found that it was asking me just to change my password. It had to be eight words exactly with one additional number. As if that alone wasn't hard enough. Remembering it is going to be harder. Anyway, I realized -much later in the day -that the system does that. It prompts you to change your password ever ninety days. I wish someone had told me that before. ...I guess that's it for the excitement. Not that that was by any means exciting.

I did smash my finger though. Well, I personally didn't smash it, someone else did by accident. It hurt so bad! I was down-stocking the light bulb isle and a girl was helping me. She was on a ladder and I was on the ground putting everything away. Well, above the light bulbs there are shelves. The shelves have big giant sliding sheets in front of them that act as doors/ads. Well, the girl was reaching over me trying to get the thing open and I just leaned up, slipped my finger into a small hole in the corner and slid the door open. As soon as the door got within her reach she yanked it open. My finger was still in the hole... Both doors met, with my finger still between them. Ouch. I did managed to pull away before any permanent damage. It stung like crazy! Thankfully there was more stinging than bleeding. I didn't want her to feel bad about hurting me. I did a fairly good job of lying to her about how much it really hurt. I could suck it up!

...Aren't you bored yet? ...Yeah? Then why are you still reading this? You knew from the beginning that this post was just going to be a waste of time. My life really is dull. Well, for a blog anyway. I rather enjoy it, but still...

Big Brother

It's nearly midnight and I just got a phone call. Of course, only family would be daring enough to call so late. It was my big brother, Joshua. Anyway, he called a couple of nights ago too. About the same time and everything. The first call was rather funny. He told me that he was pretty much obsessed with the Twilight books. Isn't that funny? My big brother, reading a girly book. Not that I'm saying that's bad or anything -I practically shoved my recommendation in his face and made him promise me he would read it. But still. It is pretty funny. The first night he called to tell me that he loved the first book. The following night he called to tell me that he hated the second one -well, not the book so much as one of the characters.(For those of you who haven't read it I won't tell you the details. I'd hate to spoil such a depressing book!) Anyway. I thought it was really funny. Tonight he called to tell me about the fourth one. He said he was in tears about it. Happy, jealous tears. He wishes he were a vampire. Silly boy.

"Any boy who reads Twilight is awesome!" -Stephenie Meyer.

Have you ever seen The Fairly Odd Parents? No? I'm not surprised. Anyway there's this episode about this pop singer and all the girls love him. The main boy's name is Timmy and he sneaks into this concert where the singer will be performing. Well, his parents, having bought a pair of tickets, go too. So, in the depths of the crowd of women there stands the lone male -aka Timmy's dad. When the announcer welcomes everyone it gets funny. -"Welcome Ladies and Timmy's Dad!" Well, that's how my brother feels. Like a pathetic boy who reads girly books. He loves the books! And he's sad that they're ending. I guess it's kind of pathetic... but I'm not one to talk. I felt the same way when I read them...

Books.

I love books! I have two huge tubs of books, plus a small bookshelf. Anyway, after buying yet another book, I decided it was time to take an inventory of what I already have. I've been wanting to do it for sometime now and today just seemed perfect. I had the night off and I wasn't doing anything. So yeah. I took inventory.

I found that I have way more books than I realized, and yet... for some reason it doesn't feel like I have that many... Well, I'll let you be the judge. I have two hundred fourteen books, plus the one I just bought, so two hundred fifteen. Hmm. I thought I was still in the one hundreds. It certainly doesn't look like I have that many. At least, not to me. Quite a number of them are from my elementary days when I was totally into the easy read, little kid, big-print books. But a lot of them are the classic ones that I picked up at a cool little used--bookstore last year. The most recent ones are just the teen sci-fi ones (i.e. Twilight, Uglies, and the most recent The Hunger Games). I guess I'm into that stuff right now. I think reading that last series just put me in that kind of mood. Well, I'm liking it. If you have any suggestions of really awesome books for me, I'd love to hear them!

I love this picture...

Poster.

A few years ago in my Seminary class, my teacher had all of the students create there own New Era Poster and since I like toying with pictures I had a lot of fun! It's been a while since then, but I still like making them. Here is my most recent one. And yes, I do realize that this is an Apple iPhone production, but I liked the idea...

Yesterday.

I never really realized exactly how tall twenty feet is. Not by a long shot. So there I was, standing at the very top overlooking the entire store. Like maybe if I were Stephen (my awesome tall cousin) on stilts I could touch the top...okay well, maybe if I were two and a half Stephens on stilts... Anyway, there I was at the very top of the ladder looking over the humongous hardware store. I really didn't need to be at the top, I just wanted to see what it was like. Don't worry, I was careful not to look down. I don't do heights very well. But I love roller coasts...huh. Anyway.

I was getting the Gatorade for the little refrigerators by the front registers. I was aiming to get a large box of twenty four red bottles. I pulled the box down on my arms and staggered under the weight. "Erm," I said wobbling as I stared down at the girl on the floor. The girl's name was Emily. She's sort of big pregnant, hence the reason I was on the ladder. They pulled me from my register -on the other side of the building -just for her. There was no way she could have gotten the Gatorade from way up here. Anyway, you get the idea, moving on. "Just turn around and set it on the steps, going down one at a time," Emily answered stepping back from the tall ladder.

Okay. It sounded easy enough. I set the box of drinks on the ladder and stepped down a couple of stairs. I then fixed my fingers around the plastic covering on the box ready to go down a few more steps. I lifted and then it happened. I could feel it fall, all twenty four bottles thumping against my legs and hitting all the bars on the giant ladder (seriously, it's like they were aiming FOR the ladder!). I heard the squeal from my own lips as well as the one coming from the ground. Actually, I think everyone in the store heard us...

Anyway, I climbed quickly down the ladder, empty box in hand, and checked if Emily was okay. Aside from being totally startled she was fine. By this time I was pretty much all giggles as I looked at the isle, chuck full of red Gatorade bottles. Only one of them ended up being defected. Lucky me.

Well, that was my day, well, the most excited part of it anyway. I don't know why I'm even bothering to post it, but it was funny and I was in the mood to write something.

The Accident.

I hate driving in the rain when it's pouring so mercilessly. And I hate driving in the dark. This morning, with all the luck I had, I had to drive in both. Rain and dark.

It was seven-seventeen in the morning and I was headed to work. I had a full fourteen hour shift at my fast food job and I wasn't very anxious to get there. I pulled past the stop light next to the school, just minutes from the house, only to stop again as a line of cars piled up in the lane. They were students no doubt, all rushing to make it to school on time. I stopped behind a giant pickup with plenty of room between us. I glanced out my windshield noticing the rain's sudden intensity as the water pelted against the glass. I sighed. I was glad I'd left early. At this rate I'd be glad to even get there on time. I sank into a silent reverie listening to the music play on the radio. My mind wandered as the cars on my right splashed by and the cars in front of me moved steadily forward.

It happened then. Suddenly, and completely out of the blue. I didn't realize what had happened only that a loud bang! echoed in my ears. My car bolted forward and my body slammed into the seat-belt, and then, just as quickly, I was thrown backward slamming against the chair.

I clutched tightly to the wheel, unable to focus on much of anything. Adrenaline rushed through my veins and my head started spinning as it received an oxygen overload from my sudden rapid breathing pattern. I didn't know what had happened.

The carpet on my dashboard was now sitting on my lap. The plastic cover on my stereo was lying on the floor at my feet (I hadn't even realized it was loose). My uniform hat was now on the bench behind me. As I collected these things, my brain spun with other questions, finally realizing what had happened. I'd been in an accident. I'd been hit. Was the car behind me okay? Was my car damaged? Was the driver who'd hit me okay? Were they as shaken as I was? I pulled my car over -as far as one can when in the middle of a busy street of high school cars- and turned on my emergency lights. I took a moment to calm myself down.

After a few stressful minutes I wrenched open my door and climbed out into the pouring rain. The driver of the car behind me got out to meet me. The car was a shinny red mustang and the girl didn't look any older than seventeen. Her Asian face looked worried and scared. She stopped near the front of her car and I could see her eyes quickly scan where the cars had collided. Without pausing, I went up to her and asked if she was okay. My voice shook and I tried to calm myself down. The girl was shaken by what had happened. That was obvious. It was probably her first accident too.

When she said that she was alright I went and inspected the cars. I glanced at mine. It looked unscathed. I went over to hers and saw the small four inch dent on the lip of the car, just above the silver horse. It was more of a scratch though, like burnt plastic, it's edges rough and torn. I brushed my hand against the car. It was the only visible damage on either vehicle. I looked back at my car and scanned it for any scratches. Through the rain and my pounding head it was hard to tell. Sheldon looked just the same as he always did. I went over to the girl noting the damage out loud.

The girl looked at me as though I was crazy. "I'm the one that hit you. I didn't hit my brakes in time." What she said was true. It wasn't my fault. Regardless, I'd taken on the conversation as though it was my fault, telling her that her car was scratched and asking her if she was sure she was okay. It should have been the other way around I guess. But I couldn't help it. This had never happened to me before. We didn't say anything else to each other after that. I told her that I was fine and that my car was fine. I didn't feel the need to get her information.

The rest of the drive was horrible. My heart skipped faster whenever I saw a set of brake lights. Paranoid that some car was going to slam into me or that I was going to crash into the car in front of me. It was hard to see through my tear-watered contacts and my rain-watered windshield. Once I'd climbed back into my car, I'd broken down. Finally feeling the pain. My head was throbbing and my neck ached whenever I turned it even slightly. Whiplash. My body was shaking and I was suddenly very anxious to get to work and out of the flow of traffic. I didn't want to drive anymore. But I didn't have much choice.

I made it to work and called my cousin over from the neighboring store. I had expected only to talk to her via phone, but once I mentioned that I'd been hit she said that she was coming over.

Well, with the aid of ibuprofen and an annoying job to get my mind off of the accident, I went through the day very much like any other. It was hard at first, but after a few hours I managed to calm myself down. Aside form a stiff, sore neck, I'm pretty much fine. I just hope Sheldon doesn't surprise me with any of his symptoms.

Stupid. Stupid.

"Mistake is just another word for Experience."

A week ago I was surfing the web and an ad caught my eye. It looked interesting and exciting. Plus it was Risk-Free. So yeah, I was good. Right? So, inexperienced stupid teenager that I am, I signed up and got an account with this Risk Free Site. During the sign-up, however, they noted that they would be charging me a dollar ninety-five for activation. A dollar ninety-five. That's not a lot if you think about it. Well worth what I wanted. So I said okay and the screen changed. "Oh wait," The site said pulling up this separate page. "We're gonna charge you nine ninety-five along with the dollar ninety-five so your total cost is actually eleven ninety." They never told me what the second amount was for.

Immediately I started to panic. I looked and looked for a way out, but there was nothing. I tried backing out of the page, but it wouldn't work. I was stuck. Despair washed over me as I realized that I had just been sucked into a scam. Me. A scam. ...When you think it will never happen to you... and it does.

I was embarrassed. But what could I do? I told myself that it was only eleven dollars. Not a huge deal. It's just two packages of toilet paper, or a bit of gas. I wasn't out much. I could deal with it. I exited the page and hoped to just forget about the whole thing. It wasn't huge. I could last.

But you know what they say about mistakes. They have a way of showing up uninvited.

I got an email today. It said that I was going to be charged an additional forty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents within the next three days. I was beyond feeling embarrassed. I was furious! I'd looked on the site several times to see where I could take my name off of the account or to change my billing status or something -only the stupid site gave me access to nothing. Nothing!

So I did the only thing I could think to do. I called my mom.

The woman is brilliant. She knew exactly what to do. She told me how to address my demands -and stressed that I needed to be firm. I have trouble with that. Especially when I'm angry. The only anger I can deliver is a red face and a hard expression. Neither of which you can see over the phone. Not that that would matter. No one takes my angry mood seriously.

So I soaked in my mothers advice and at exactly eight o'clock this morning I called the account people and told them my demands. The guy on the other end, whether because of the firm quick demands I threw or just that that was his personality, he was nice and very willing to help. He took care of everything right there over the phone and erased my account. I was so happy! My thanks probably confused him. Here I was as unyielding as the grave and then I turn to mush with relief. Anyway. I called my mom back and told her the good news. Thank you so much Mom!

From this...experience, I've learned a few helpful rules.
1. If not ordering anything, never give out your card number over the internet. Duh.
2. If you fall into a scam, never give up.
3. If you have to give up, admit your wrong and never repeat it.
4. Never think that you'll be the one exception to the rule. I hear that everyone falls down and that's okay, just don't stay there.

Signature.

I was in the break-room at work the other day and several of my co-workers were conversing about their old school days. The subject of forging signatures came up. Everyone in the room had said that they'd forged their parents signature at least once. I was the only one who hadn't. I've never been one to do that. First off I'd feel WAY too guilty and second, there's no way I could match my scribble to my parents perfect font. Especially my mother. She always had this way of making her J that I could never match. Even to this day I can never pull it off -not that I have any need for it.

Well, the stories going around the room reminded me of one of my own. The only time I'd ever forged a signature. It was a year ago at midnight and I was standing in line with my sister, along with all the other hundreds of people at Wal-Mart. We both had a copy of the seventh and final Harry Potter book. My stepmother, Laura, had given me her debit card. I made it to the front of the line and swiped the card. The signature box popped up and I froze. I remember all too clearly how guilty I suddenly felt. My face was red and my heart was beating fast.

"If you'll sign, please," the cashier said impatiently glancing back at the tremendous line of people waiting behind me. I stared, wide eyed, at the lady. What was I suppose to do?? The guy behind me, probably the only person who wasn't holding the bright yellow book, told me that it was okay and that nothing would happen. He must have realized, thankfully, though it was so obvious, that this card wasn't mine.

So, I signed. The first try was so horrible that I cleared it out and tried again. If I had known that those machines didn't really do anything -I could have written Clark Gable and it wouldn't have done anything- it would have saved me a lot of grief. Anyway...

My Collection.

Aside from the usual junk, I like to collect things. Right now, my main focus (not that I'm giving any of them much focus at all) is the Quarters. I have forty-eight of them. All I need left is Alaska and Hawaii. Alaska is out already, but I have been most unfortunate to miss it. Hawaii comes out in November I believe and I'll have to keep my eyes peeled for that one too.

I also collect stamps. Its nothing fancy. They've all been used and are now worthless, but I think it's cool. Since I love letters and have a few correspondence I thought the collection seemed practical. No effort on my part really, I just take the stamp off and tape it to the page. I have five whole pages of stamps, each crammed like a puzzle piece on the page. Oh! In case you ever decided to collect stamps I have a bit of advice. If there's a stamp you like but it's unmercifully stuck on the envelope what you do is tear it off -envelope and all -and soak it in warm water. After that the paper should come right off and leave the stamp a little damp. It only takes a minute to dry. Anyway, just in case you were curious.

After my stamps and quarters I have another collection. This one is my favorite of the three, probably just because it looks cooler and means a little more on my part. I collect movie tickets. (Just of movies that I've seen; I guess I should just say that I merely save my movie tickets. It's not like I go digging through the trash to find whatever looks cool.) My oldest ticket is from six years ago. Harry Potter and the Camber of Secrets. My collection consists of fifty-seven tickets; from Finding Nemo to Brother Bear and then to my most recent Journey to the Center of the Earth. (I already have a spot reserved for Twilight!) I guess that means that through the last six years I've only seen fifty seven movies in the theater. I guess that's about ten movies a year. It seems like a lot... But most of my tickets are from '06 mostly because my brother worked at the theater and I worked across the street from it. He got me in to a couple of screenings and then he had a free-pass person for one guest every movie. Needless to say I was never bored when I had to wait hours for my brother to get off work and dive me home. I love going to the movies!

Quencher.

I couldn't resist. I'd talked myself out of it all day. I just really wanted one and they put me down in Lumber. Lumber where the refrigerator sits right next to the register tempting customers into buying their drink.

I grabbed the drink and stopped. Did I really want to do this? Was I really that thirsty? Yes, I decided. I twisted the cap and the lid made a soft pop.

Oh no! I did it!

My mind had decided only milliseconds after that I really didn't need it. But my fingers had been faster and reacted only to the first decision. It was too late now. Might as well enjoy it. One dollar down the drain wouldn't kill me...

I pressed the bottle to my lips and let the red Fruit-Punch spill into my mouth. The cool liquid felt soothing against my gums, relieving me of my violent coughs -but only for a moment. The taste didn't hit me until later...

My first reaction was surprising. Like taking a swig of water and realizing its actually milk. I had been expecting the sweet sugary taste of punch. That kick in the mouth that made kids bounce off walls, instead my mouth was filled with the strange repulsive taste of... What was that? I quickly scanned the ingredients and found what it was. Salt? Yuck! I hate Gatorade.

I Tried.

So, I'm on my way to making a tradition. I want to donate blood every other month. (I'd donate every month only they said you have to wait for eight weeks.) So anyway, I donated last in June and I could have donated in August only the blood drive I go through wasn't in town, or something, for those few weeks when I actually could have donated. Instead I signed up for September. And now it's obviously that time.

Don't get me wrong. I hate needles. But a wise man once said: When you are afraid, do the thing you are afraid of and soon you will lose your fear of it. So that's what I'm out to do; conquer my fear of those big gigantical needles that suck all the blood out of you... Eeeyh. I sure hope it doesn't backfire.

~After the Appointment~

Did I say I wanted to donate every month? Ha! Don't know where that came from.

My appointment was at twelve thirty and then I had work at two. I arrived early, as Julia always does, but didn't get in the chair until ten minutes after one o'clock. I guess they were running late. The donation center thing was held in the town's new Medical Center, and boy does it look new! Anyway, just like the last time things didn't go so well.

I got in the chair and my held-off-nerves came sweeping over me, overwhelmingly powerful -as if the lack of my feeling anxious had built up behind me and then suddenly it was crushing me. Not the most pleasant of feelings. I had tried my best not to think about what I was going to do this morning for the simple reason of not wanting to get myself all worked up. A lot of good that did.

My assistant/blood-care-person helped out by covering up the needle and making me look away when she stuck me. I never saw the needle. And I never saw the blood.The assistant was funny. I had told her that I don't do needles. She was a short little women of twenty-six and she had the strangest personality. Her name was Robin and she was peppy, talkative, and very silly. Anyhow, just before she stuck me she called one of the volunteers to come and stand on the opposite side of the bed. The volunteer's name-tag told me that her name was Linda. (Most of the donors there were employees of the Medical Center, hence the name tag. People kept asking me what department I worked it and I had to tell them that I actually didn't work there at all. They seemed happy that I had gone out of my way to donate. Anyway) Linda was funny too. I was glad she jumped right in to help. She didn't think it was at all weird to have to talk to some freaked out teenager about not freaking out.

Linda told me a quick story about her husband giving blood. She said that the lady taking his blood didn't even notice that he'd passed out on the seat until his wife, Linda, told him that her husband was unconscious. Yeah, that was reassuring. Not. Despite Linda's attempts to get my mind off of the sting of the gigantical needle I was still very aware of it. (Robin was kind enough to tell me that the needle going into me was a 16 gauge. Yeah, put that on the list of things NOT to tell the donor.)

The needle stung like crazy! I was sure that the last time hadn't been this uncomfortable. I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming out in pain. Through my teeth I told Linda that it really hurt. Thankfully Robin was paying attention and realized that the needle had struck the vein wall. She mentioned something about it vibrating when it hit the wall. The needle -vibrating. Ouch! It was so painful!

Well, she fixed that and then I was given that stupid ball and was instructed to squeeze and release every five seconds. Just as soon as the blood started flowing out of my body, my head felt really light, black blotches started popping up in random places, and my entire upper body became really hot. Like it was weird, I could almost feel the blood rushing to my heart really fast making every vein really warm.

"I'm feeling light headed," I said immediately, not wanting to experience quite the same thing I had the last time. So, Robin made the chair a bed and I gave blood lying down. I felt embarrassed when I was given the rags. One on my forehead, one on my neck. No one else had to use them. Just me. Pathetic.

But it gets worse. After I had finished giving blood I asked if I could leave right then -I had work in fifteen minutes! That's just enough time to get there. One of the assistance gave me a stern disbelieving look. "You can't leave that fast!"

Well, fine. I deliberated calling work and telling them that I'd be a few minutes late but decided against it. I wouldn't be that late. In fact, if I were to humor these people for a few minutes, I could still make it there on time. So I sat there. Ignoring the pain and the desire to lay back down. I wanted to stay there. I really did. But I also didn't want to get in trouble for being late. A few minutes later I told one of the guys that I thought I was able to stand so he let me stand, but not leave. He walked beside me to the refreshment table (and are there always Nutter-Butters there? One of the other donors had asked for a sticker that said "I did it for the Nutter-Butters." I thought that was funny.) So I sat there at the table, not wanting to eat anything. I especially didn't want anything to drink. I had just downed an entire water-bottle right before getting in the chair and it had quickly gone through my system and was ready to come out.

As I sat there, the room teetered back and forth and the warmth spread though my veins, but I couldn't afford to be late for work. I could be a tough cookie for a few more minutes, just long enough to convince the people that I was okay. Well, my plan was foiled by that little elderly lady who checked me in. She kept a ridiculously close eye on me. Every time I shut my eyes or touched my head she would be at my side asking me if I was feeling dizzy. I reassured her, several times, that I would be fine. She didn't need to panic. After the third reassurance, things started getting a little hazy. The room spun and the blotches reappeared. I shut my eyes, leaning back in my chair trying to fix whatever was happening. Then, out of nowhere, the lady was there at my side. She grabbed my arm and demanded whether or not I was okay. I answered truthfully and told her that I was feeling really dizzy. So, just like last time, the assistants bustled around me and I was quickly laid on the floor with my feet propped up on my chair. I was beyond feeling embarrassed; lying there, pale faced, wet rags all over my me. I was utterly humiliated. The whole thing was just...ugh.

I was on the floor for a while, looking up at everyone from behind the white clothes. Eventually, one of the ladies came by and asked if I was okay. I told her that aside from my over-filled bladder I was fine, or better anyway. She laughed and had someone escort me to the bathroom. That was embarrassing too. But at least, no one out in the hallway would know that I'd nearly passed out.

I was seven minutes late for work. I truly thought I'd have to go home though. For the first two hours it was hard to stay up; the room tilted strangely, and my head, as light as it was, felt like a ton of bricks.

I don't like giving blood. I know that, of course. But something one of the other donors said hit me. "I believe that if your a healthy adult you should give blood. If you can, do it. Simple as that." So, as much as I'd love not to go through what I obviously always will whenever I donate, I'd like to help. I'm healthy and able. I just tell myself that I'm doing it for someone who needs it more. My body can always produce more blood. No biggie.

So, the sticker I got today was a little different than last time. It says. "I Tried To Give Blood Today." ...I think I liked the last one better. The word Tried just seems a little... I don't know. Bad. Like I failed. Oh well. I hope next time it's a little better. At least I have another eight weeks to prepare myself. ;)

Childhood.

I found an envelope in my closet the other day (I never know what I'm going to find in there. It's always a mess!). It was sealed and full. I didn't remember sealing it. That would be silly. I would just have to rip it open sometime anyway. Well, my curiosity got the better of me and I tore it open right there. I was surprised to find a whole stack of pictures. Pictures of my childhood. There were only a few of me and the rest were of my elementary friends.

Well, for some odd reason I felt that it would be a fun thing to blog. The pictures, I mean. My family would see them at any rate, if I were post them and that would be fun. I'm sure that anyone else would just get a kick out of them. I sure would. Ugly hair cuts and out-of-style clothes. Ugh. Anyway, Here you go. My childhood.


This one is of Jacob and I. (The cat's name is Paul) He's so cute! (Not the cat -the little boy) That's my brother. The missionary. The one who never writes. I got an email from him today and all it said was "Write me!!!!" How lovely.


This is me and my little sister Jessica. She's so tiny! And my hair is so ugly! Jess and I have always been really good friends. Shes grown a lot, of course, but she's still the same. Skinny, hipped up girl. Like a weasel. Always full of energy. And man that girl could scream! Haha, I love you Jessica!


And this is probably my favorite picture of my childhood. I love it! It must have been halloween, but I really have no memory of actually taking it. I remember that hat, though. That big purple thing. The cowboy is my big brother Joshua. The ninja is my missionary Jacob. The cute little girl in red (I have no idea what she's dressed up as, but she sure is cute!) is my sister Jordan. The ballerina is Jessica. My family has obviously grown a lot since then, but I do miss the old days... sort of. Well, okay not that much, but they're fun to look at!