Oh, Tidings of Discomfort and Oy... Vey...

Bouncing along to To the Sky by Owl City (I really can't help it... It's just so catchy!)
Craving a simple salad. If I eat one more turkey I'm going to turn into one.

Caution: This blog is absurdly long because I have very much to say. Brace yourself.

    I hope everyone's Christmas was delightful. Mine was loverly, and quite cold. I live directly in the path of that huge snowstorm that ravaged its way across the southeast. For once, we actually had a white Christmas! Everyone was completely shocked. Unfortunately, we had to travel on Christmas day, up toward where the storm and snow was so much worse. I was surprised we even went - all the roads were an icy snowy mess and we don't have four-wheel-drive, since we really don't need it at home.

This was the road to my dad's mom's house on the 26th. Insanity!

    My father, however, grew up in the mountains, where it snows often, and he knew how to handle it. Mom, on the other hand, grew up at the beach, and flipped out as soon as the tires slid the tiniest bit. Driving - or paddling a raft, or moving any vehicle - with Mom when she's nervous or stressed is asking for a death threat. She turns into this vicious insane control-freak and grabs that handle above the door that she always holds when she has to ride while I drive. It's funny, really. My dad is really calm about most things that get people nervous - rafting down rough rapids, driving up an icy mountain, teaching me to drive, driving with me now. He only snaps when Mom freaks out and tries to tell him what to do. He knows what he's doing and doesn't need help, but Mom likes to help everyone (read: demands that things be done her way).
    I'm making my mother sound like some terribly controlling person, and she is controlling, but not in a bad way, I promise. Just don't get her nervous. Hey, it's the holidays; everyone's on edge, right?

Passing this truck on the curve of a mountain road where only one side had been scraped particularly freaked her out.

    Well, we went up to my mom's parents' house and the storm dropped about eight inches of snow on us. That's a crazy amount of snow for people who live where one inch throws people into a frenzy. So on a cold Christmas day when people stay inside with the family, what did we do? 
    Why, we bundled up in mismatched sweats and coats and boots and traipsed down the backyard, over the fence and into the hilly field behind the house and went sledding, of course. It was super fun going down, but the hike back up was so steep it almost wasn't worth it. Plus, my sister and I were either sick or recovering from being sick, so it was a little rough. Plus, when I rode down with dad, we were headed for a tree, and when he turned the sled away from it, I flipped out and landed on my face. Now, that was fun. It was also, coincidentally, my last ride down the hill.

View from my basement window. The field over the fence is where we went sledding.

    By the next day, the news and weather channel were telling us that if we "didn't have to go anywhere, stay inside and off the roads." So, naturally, we packed up the car and started driving up further into the mountains, where another six inches were being dumped. The main roads weren't bad, but as soon as we got into the tiny mountain town where my dad's mother lives, we discovered that the side roads we needed to drive on hadn't been scraped by the snowplow. We only slid a little. Mom only freaked out a little. And by a little I am making an enormous understatement. We're alive, and that's all that matters. Going up Granny's driveway was impossible, though. The snow was far too deep, and it is quite a steep driveway:

See that tiny white nub at the bottom of the hill in the far distance? That's where the road is.

 Instead, we tried to go up the back hill, which is about as steep...

That little space between the pines and Christmas trees is where we hide to hike to.

But for some reason we thought we could make it. Here is where we got stuck:

At the bottom...

By the next day, we'd gotten so much snow that our car was nearly buried. The snow drifts were waist deep and the wind was blowing up to fifty miles per hour. The governor declared a state of emergency, and the weather channel informed us of the obvious blizzard conditions.

HUGE snow drifts.

This is my sister. You can't really tell, but the drift to her left is actually waist deep. See where the shadows end to the left? That's not because that's how tall the tree is; it's because that's how tall the snow drift is.

    When we got home, we were greeted by yet more snow, which is unusual, because here it normally melts on the day it falls.
    Anyway, here's a little Christmas collage of four of my gifts (I would've done more, but Picnik.com would only let me put four photos in a collage at once...)

Didn't show up as clearly as I wanted... That's the complete collection of Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales on the left, then a Livescribe Pulse Digital Pen, Jame's Patterson's Witch and Wizard, and a lapdesk. 

    Have a Merry Christmas, everyone, and a Happy New Year!
P.S. If you read this entire blog, shoot me a comment and I'll give you a virtual high-five!

Christmas Gifting

Zoning out to O Holy Night by *N Sync
So tired my eyes are crossing
    Laugh all you want, folks, but listen to those harmonies - you have to admit that even a cappella *N Sync had it down. I am a nineties kid, what do you expect? Boy bands were the bomb dot com to me. 
    You know where it gets really good? A Christian boy band (e.g. Plus One, heard of them?). I have one CD which I just recently found (along with my Hilary Duff and Backstreet Boys Millennium CD, score!) and I couldn't help but take a listen. You know what I really loved about the boy bands of the nineties and 2000s? They had this fantastic fetish with the Spanish-sounding guitar, which I love. Seriously - listen to the Millennium CD, and you've got Spanish Eyes, for one, then on Black and Blue there's The Call. Plus One didn't miss that boat either, cause just on that one CD, the Promise, they've got Here in my Heart, which has a light Spanish influence, and God Is In This Place, which is very Spanish sounding, enough to make my heart melt. Then, get this, they took What Child Is This on their Christmas CD, and gave that a Spanish spin! Combine that with the gorgeously meshed vocals of a boy band and I'm in heaven. They even did an arrangement of Silent Night a cappella in the same manner as *N Sync's O Holy Night.  
    Okay, enough about my guilty pleasure of terrible nineties music. On to more important things. Like my now-clean room. Let me just include a quick before and after shot, here: 

Before

    and...

After

    And in case you're wondering, yes, my bed did move. It's still unmade, but that's because I was cold and covered up and got up just to show how clean my room is... Aside from the purse and my work shoes on the floor... and the laundry in my chair... You know what? I can see the improvement. ha ha.  
    The cat on the bed is A.J. He's a nut, who thinks he's a dog, and may possibly be gay. He just really loves guys. But that's okay... I mean, I don't support his decision, but I love him anyway. ha ha. Whatever. He's really weird anyways. He actually likes water. Tries to get in the shower with me. Weirdo. 
    So. Christmas is coming, and I've found that there really isn't anything I want or need for Christmas. I've been asked by family and friends what I would like as a Christmas gift, and I just can't think of anything. When I was a kid, I used to be thinking about what I wanted as soon as I got past my birthday, which is in February. I would already be on to my Christmas list as soon as my birthday gifts lost their luster. As I've grown older, obviously I don't want the newest Barbie or anything, and while techie toys like cameras and such may be neat, I don't really need or want one. I have a laptop, iPhone, so I don't need an iPod, a camera that may be five or so years old, but it works, and any other things like that I find are quite expensive and I feel bad asking for them. 
    My Grandmother ended up buying Finale Songwriter 2011 for me, which I was saving up for myself, but that was the only thing I could think to tell her, and she was more than happy to get it for me, even a month early so I've already gotten the hang of the keystrokes. The only big thing I asked my parents for, but didn't actually expect to get is a digital pen - the livescribe smartpen. When working on my books, or even stuff for school, the only way I can be creative is to write it by hand first and then retype it when I'm finished, which as you can imagine takes a ridiculous amount of time. With a digital pen, I can write it all out and then transfer it digitally to the computer, thus saving an extraordinary amount of time. It cost a fair amount of money as well, and I didn't think I'd actually get it, but my mom asked me to help her order it online, so now I know that I am. 
    What's weird to me is I actually feel a bit bad for asking for things for Christmas. From anyone, I mean, even when they ask me what I'd like. I feel guilty for admitting that I want something, and selfish when I have to think about what I'd like. I know it's ridiculous, and I'm asking the same questions to many of my friends and family. It's like pre-holiday regret. What kind of sense does that make?
    On a more positive note, we may get snow on Christmas! White Christmas - crossed off bucket list.

Irony, not Wrinkly

Stuck in my head: Musicbox by Regina Spektor
In the mood for a nice heavy snow
    You know what's ironic? Drinking tea out of a mug that reads "coffee." Things like that, dear reader, are what get me through the drabness of daily life. That, and pumpkin muffin tops. Err, really anything with pumpkin in it - except pie.

    Today, it snowed again! Only for a moment, but it was enough for me to jump up and down like a little six-year-old who really needs to go to the bathroom. I would've looked like one, too, had I been wearing my footy pajamas. If only it had kept snowing. It stopped after about ten minutes, and then half an hour ago it began sleeting. I texted this to my sister, but the stupid auto correct on my phone did this:

    That's something else that's ironic - it's called auto-correct, but the it never corrects anything. It just screws everything up. Speaking of, has anyone been to that website damnyouautocorrect.com? Funny stuff right there. Funny stuff. I encourage you to visit this site, but I urge you to wait until the middle of the night, when I normally read it, because then everything will be funny. Here are some of my favorites:

While Experiencing an Unfortunate Lack of Inspiration and/or Creativity...

Mentally playing Two Birds by Regina Spektor... How I love that girl...
Suffering from Absentmindeditis, a horrible disease that strikes many, often those who least expect it. Together, we can conquer this. Be strong, reader, be strong.
    I really think my little caption up there says it all at the moment. I'm just not all here, right now, and in my preoccupied state, I have taken it upon myself to read up on a few of my favorite writers' blogs. It is an addiction, and also an unfortunate side effect and/or symptom of absentmindeditis. I swear, it's killing me slowly.
    Enough of the pity party. Let me just say a few words about Maureen Johnson, and how almost every time I read her blog, I burst forth in glorious and uncontrollable laughter. No joke, the woman is hysterical. Albeit, absentmindeditis and 1:30 in the morning combined make almost anything funny for me, I have to say, her rendition of O Spider Tree here was top-notch. "La la la la la Nightmares." Ha, oh how I laugh!
    I've been sitting on my bed for an hour and a half now, pen in hand and notebook perched on my criss-cross-applesauce legs, its wordless blue lines stretching out in endless silence. Why can I not think of anything interesting to put into my book? It is because, dear reader, I am simply filling in the blanks at this point. Writing about the mundane and the every day. I spent NaNoWriMo writing about all the big exciting high-action parts of the story, which while it kept me going and I got my fifty-thousand words, left the most boring things for me to fill in afterward. Let's face it, the book can't be all action, because by the end of the story, the action will have become boring after permeating every page and circumstance. I'm not writing about boring every-day normal life, sure, but everyone has those days, so I have to write them into my book. A lot of conversation and contemplation are included in these days, which is important, but tedious. Every time I start to write something down and start up a page about doing laundry or making dinner, I immediately cross it out because I feel like it's going to be one of those pages that the reader instantly wants to skip over to get to the good parts. I'm having trouble making it seem as important as the rest of the novel. I just can't focus enough to really put everything into it right now.
     I blame absentmindeditis. That and the fact that I just finished City of Ashes by Cassandra Clare, and I really want the next book to see what happens. Only I really don't have money to spend on myself right now. Sad day.

And Coffee Went Everywhere

Pandora-ing Breakable by Ingrid Michaelson
New Addiction Mint Truffle Hershey Kisses
    Remember when I mentioned how I needed to go to bed at a reasonable hour so I wouldn't be late for church and be proclaimed a heathen? Well, in case you weren't aware, three am is not a reasonable hour. Especially when you're coming down with a cold. Get comfy, I've got a couple of rants coming here, dear reader.
    Let me just preface this first one by saying that I have a horrid immune system. And many strange ailments. But those I will not get into at the moment. What I am going to talk about is the fact that, from the second week of classes on, I have not gotten sick once. Not a cold, anyways. I was free from the common cold all semester, and yet now, two days after my classes end, my nose is threatening to fall off, and my throat is made of sandpaper. Feels great, reader, feels great.
    Secondly, it did, in fact, snow today. Enough to coat my car during church this morning (which, yes, I was late for. Don't judge; I'm getting sick).

    The only thing is, it's not quite cold enough for the snow to actually stick on the ground. It has coated some leaves and such that are laying on the ground, but aside form that it's really just floating through the air. Bummer. 
    It's almost eleven now, and it's still snowing a bit, but it hasn't stuck at all. It snowed almost the entire time I was at work, though. Speaking of work, guess who forgot to take the lid off of an urn of coffee when she made it, and let a whole urn of hazelnut cream coffee spill all over the floor. That's right, this girl, right here. My hands still smell like coffee, and I've washed them many times.
    Also related to work, we close at eight on Sundays. Did that stop tons of people from coming in at seven fifty-five? Of course not. So I couldn't start my cleaning 'til they'd all left, which ended up being around eight-thirty. Boo that. Luckily, some very kind people (read: everyone who worked with me tonight) helped me out with all my cleaning; it was my first night closing on my own, and I honestly had no idea what I was supposed to do aside from the windows and floors.
    So... Here I am, totally zonked and with nothing of particular interest to write about. Except that apparently (i.e. according to one of the managers) I sound like a dying cat when I sing gospel music. Epic Fail.
  
    P.S. I've been trying to come up with a statement that is synonymous with "epic fail." Let's face it, folks, "epic fail" is completely overused. We need to give our everyday vernacular a little make-over every now and then. I was thinking something with the word "legendary"...

Narnia and Snow

Currently yawning to Love Song To A Ballerina by George Winston
Pondering the fact that I forgot to title my last post. Score.
    Saw Voyage of the Dawn Treader tonight with Corey. While the movie was awesome, the coolest part was that we were completely alone in the theater. I took it upon myself to test a few seats in a few different rows before I found the one that was just right: smack dab in the middle of the theater. I've been in a theater when there's only a few people there, but never completely alone. It was really fun being able to talk to each other as we watched the movie as if we were at home or something. Plus I could laugh as loud as I wanted, and I fully took advantage of that benefit. My guffaw was utterly infused with freedom. 
    Of course that didn't stop one of the employees from telling us to take our feet off of the seats in front of us... But I understand that. We're just a couple of trouble makers. Regardless, it was totally awesome. We also saw it in 3D. It was strange, because it wasn't pop-out-in-your-face-I-could-reach-out-and-touch-it 3D, it was more of this-is-happening-live-right-in-front-of-me 3D. I enjoyed it thoroughly, though.
    At the end, Aslan says to Lucy and Edmund that he'll be in their world - which is to say our world - but he will be known by another name. For those of you out there, my few readers, who know of the religious ties the Chronicles of Narnia books have, it's obvious what he means. But Corey, feeling the need to irk me, turns and says, "George Clooney?" I told him, with as much love and care as I could possibly muster, that sometimes I really just want to kick him. With love.
    On to what's really on my mind at the moment. Snow.
    The thing is, we never, ever get snow like that where I live. Sometimes we get ice, or fog-freezes that cause a lot of damage, and cancel schools and classes. But you cannot play with ice and fog-freezes. Ice ball fights hurt. And fog-freezes may look pretty, but after ice-laden branches crash to the ground left and right they sort of lose their luster. What do I have to do to get a good snow around here? I'll do anything!
    Seriously, though. How neat would it be if the first snow of the year, for me at least, happened before Christmas? Unheard of, normally. Bring it on!

[Insert Title Here]

Currently absentmindedly humming Orpheus in the Underworld, by Offenbach
 Licking my lips thinking about Chick-fil-A
    Today, I woke up at 11:21. I rolled over in my bed, desperately trying to figure out what day it was, and, when I found the answer, moaned. It's Saturday.
    Yes, I can sleep in late (which is good, because I didn't go to bed until three), and eat fast food. I can do whatever I li--
    No, I can't. I have to go to work at 4:30. [insert expression of utter dismay here] I should be happy, excited. I just got this job, and I'm working at one of my favorite places in the world. Well, second favorite, maybe - Barnes and Noble is definitely tops. I've already gone through the vast majority of the training, so I'm actually working when I go in, now. Plus, the people I now work with are really fun and interesting.
    So, why the expression of utter dismay, you ask? Because, dear reader, it is my second day of Christmas break, and I want to write. Not only do I want to write (which I will do as soon as I get home from work) but I want to do so in my pajamas. All day, not all night. After all, I have church tomorrow, and if I have a repeat of today - staying up writing until three am and then waking up at 11:21 - I will miss church and be proclaimed a godless heathen.
    Just kidding, but I will miss church, which is no bueno. "No va bene," I should say, being the brilliant Italian scholar that I am (Die!)
    Did I mention the delightful phone call I received last night? No? Get comfortable, 'cause you're in for some happy, here.
    Last night, while out with two of my best friends, Suzanne and Corey, my mother called. Mummy dearest. She tells me that my Italian professor has called my house. Perché? I thought I was free! She tells me to call my professor. I do. "Pronto," he says into the phone. I ask him why he called and lo and behold, there are five online exercises that I am unaware that I must do! How long do I have to finish them? Until midnight - and it was almost eight at this point.
    Now, by five online exercises, I mean the online exercises for five chapters. 10-14. So there are really three exercises for each chapter, and an online quiz for each, which conveniently would not work on Suzanne's computer. When I finally finished two hours later, and sent them in, I receive an e-mail from my professor:
"Ciao Sarah. It is okay. Dr. [Italian Professor]."
    By "it is okay," he means that he received it, not that I didn't have to do it, or that I did "okay" on the exercises. The latter two, I would have preferred.
    On a lighter note, it's supposed to snow here tomorrow and Monday. Yay! Of course, where I live, snow means this, and it's enough to shut down everything. All the stores will be closed due to "inclement weather," people will hole up in their houses for days, and WalMart will be out of milk, bread, and water bottles. It's insanity over scarcely an inch. Regardless, I'm psyched.

Enter

Currently listening to O Tannenbaum from A Charlie Brown Christmas

Currently craving a Reese's like nobody's business

    Hello, there. I'm glad you've stumbled upon my charming little blog - at least, I hope it's charming. 

    Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Sarah Jane, and I am an aspiring writer. My greatest ambition is to walk into a book store and to see my book on a shelf. I don't care about seeing someone read it, or hearing how much someone enjoyed it. I don't need that. I know that out there somewhere is one fan - be it a crazy stalker in an attic, or a friend of mine who is horribly biased - and that is the person for whom I write. Them, and the very lively, very determined characters who are desperate to escape my mind and start living their lives within their paperback worlds. 
    So, a little about me...

    I love peanut butter. I eat it plain, out of the jar. Smooth, never chunky. I don't enjoy crunching on hacked up peanut parts when I eat my peanut butter. After all, it's called peanut butter, not peanut why-do-I-feel-like-I'm-eating-damp-cat-litter. Just stop being lazy, and crunch the rest of those peanuts, JIF factory workers. No one likes a slacker. (P.S. Reese's = best candy ever. Peanut butter and chocolate should get together and make babies. Oh wait...)

    I read voraciously, but getting through one book takes me forever, because I'm almost always reading more than one at the same time. I am currently reading three-ish. I feel like I have another I've started, but I don't know where it is, because my room is still suffering from the aftermath of NaNoWriMo, and my floor is littered with debris and laundry. I kid you not, one of my cats jumped out from under a shirt on the floor today and tore out of the room like a pit bull was on his heels. It was probably the spare sock monster who lives under my bed. 

    I love to sing. Music is a large part of my life - I play piano, sing, and can and do write music on the rare occasion that the Muse descends. I almost always have a song in my head, like an iPod on shuffle, or background music for my life. Sometimes it annoys me. More often it annoys everyone else. Pro for reading my blog: you don't have to listen to me singing all the time. 

    It is currently 3:06 am. And I'm wide awake. Could have something to do with the fact that I'm drinking my second Coke in the last six hours, but probably not, as I normally consume much more caffeine than this. Could have something to do with the fact that I am officially on winter break since I finished my last final today - err, yesterday. (Curse you, Italian! Bo!) Or it could be that I'm bordering on nocturnal. All my best writing comes after midnight. As well as the least studying. 

    Jesus Christ is my Savior. I'm not one to shove religion down people's throats. Heck, when I see those people on campus with the hate and repent signs and such, I get as annoyed as any atheist would. But I get annoyed because, in my humble opinion, that's hardly the way to get people to listen. When do you stop listening in any argument? The moment your opponent starts yelling and accusing you of being wrong. The way to reach people is through tender words and open ears, not by hoarse outbursts of, "YOU'RE GOING TO HELL." Anyway. Off of my soapbox. 

    The physical act of writing is so cool to me. That's half the reason I do it. Watching the pen move purposefully across the paper, seeing the ink flow out of the pen and the letters leak onto the paper - I'm enthralled by it. I'm really particular about the pen and paper I use. Well, mainly the paper. There's some paper - notebook paper - that, while I know notebook paper is not glossy, it has something of that in its texture, and pens write weird on it. I like the kind of paper that seems really soluble, the kind that soaks the ink right up, no matter what pen you use. It's almost like the paper takes my words in and really holds them deep inside, rather than just on the surface like that other paper. I also hate typing on the computer. It is impossible for me to be creative while typing. I have to put the words on the paper myself to be able to write anything good, or good in my eyes, at least. 

    Well, if you've made it this far, dear reader, I applaud you. I also thank you. If there is anyone out there who finds my thoughts worthy of reading, I'm thrilled. You are awesome, in every way possible. Keep being awesome - just go out and awesome all over the place.