Carbon Copy

Happy New Years

I hate this damn holiday. It's always disappointing.

Christmas Lights at Temple Square

Christmas Photos

pencil me in

Something that bugs me is waiting to get my hair cut. When I decide to cut my hair, I want to do it right then. This has led to several bad experiences at places such as Fantastic Sam's (not always fantastic) and Great Clips (not ever great). Mostly over the past 6 years, I've been getting my hair cut by Bonnie at Salon Iceni (it's in a stripmall). She's smiley, reasonably priced, and has never given me a bad cut. So today I called to see if I could get an appointment for sometime this week, but the whole time I was half hoping she'd say something like "why don't you just come in an hour!" And then I wouldn't have to wait. Well, I had to leave a message. She just called back. My appointment isn't until next Tuesday.

Merry Christmas

So, I'm at my brother's house. We've opened presents, played Zombies, pretended with Claire in her new dress-ups, feasted, and lounged. It all feels really nice inside. Guess it's that Christmas cheer. Hope you felt it, too.

I'm a little short on Christmas cheer:

So I'm done with finals. I've gotten two A's (and possibly a third, but the jury's still out on that one). I'm going home tomorrow. I'm moving from a place where I'm constantly avoiding my roommate. Things should be looking up, right? The problem is, with every new item I pack (which I just barely, it seems, unpacked), I think "Why did I even come here?" It just seems like such a waste. Right now I feel like Purdue is not the place for me. There are no classes I want to take. No professors that take an interest in me or that I take an interest in. I hate feeling caught. I keep telling myself, only 3 more semesters and then I can go somewhere else. But even the thought of those three semesters makes me ill inside. And that nauseous feeling doubles when I think of applying somewhere else.

So why am I not happy to get away from here for 2.5 weeks? Because I know it is short-lived and the closer I get to going home, the closer I am to coming back. I always thought I was more of a half-full kind of girl, but everyday the glass becomes more and more empty.

Carolling

Brace yourself: this might get cheesy and sentimental.

Something I don't talk about much is how much I like to sing. Like, I love it! Driving in the car, in the shower, when I'm doing the dishes. I love to belt it and hear my voice carry. This has led me to joining the choir in pretty much every ward I was ever in. Purdue is no different, even though our choir consists of 5 or 6 people, give or take a few. Well, tonight was the Stake Carol Sing. This is when all the different choirs prepare a number and we all get together and sing them, interspersed with other Christmas songs and scriptures, etc. In my neighborhood growing up, this was informally called "the battle of the choirs."

So tonight, I got to sit up on the stage thingy (I can't think of its real term) and join in all the carolling fun. But I didn't expect to be filled with so much joy. It caught me with the first number, "O Holy Night." I almost had to stop singing; I could hardly stand the swelling joy. It must've been unbelievable because it made all the off-key choirs sound so tender. I couldn't help but fall in love with them, even in their Christmas sweaters. And the old man with his hunched back, the tape-recorded accompaniment, the lady falling asleep next to me, they all deeply touched me. I was so glad I got to belt out the Hallelujah chorus. When Handel wrote that, I doubt he pictured the rural Indiana crowd that would stand to sing it, but it was beautiful.

Final(ly)

I just finished my last paper of the semester. Well, kinda. See this particular paper is a group paper, which is kinda nice because I only had to write 7 pages instead of 20, but here's the catch: we have to work together. I don't really like working with other people.

I just sent off my sections to the other two girls in my group, and I have this nagging fear that the jubilation I feel at being "done" is going to soon turn to bitterness when they want me to "improve" what I've written or perhaps add to it. See, I'm not a reviser. I know, I know, it's a weakness, but I just have never been able to do it. The funny thing is I'm really good at telling other people how to write their papers better, which comes from being an editor for 3 years. But if I were in their shoes and someone told me to change things, I'da been pisssed, with three s's. Guess I need to learn humility. Or maybe other people just need to learn to leave good enough alone.

Still... I'm celebrating today by packing. I can't wait to move! And I'll be back in the good old valley of salt one week from today. Get your party shoes ready. Or something.

Miscellaneous Photos

From a day in Chicago a while back:

Flowers Jenn gave me for my birthday:

This is what I look like lately (studious):

Apparently I had too much fun with Mike and Amanda in North Carolina to take pictures. I only have a few:

Ok, I seriously need to write this paper now. No raspberries.

Metaphor for My Life?

I made a gingerbread house at a party tonight. It was colorful and bright, but the roof started to sink. Eventually, it completely collapsed. "Not fit for human habitation. Do not trespass!"

First Snow

It snowed today. It was probably the best part of the day. Welcome December. I wish you were half over.