Last night...

Last night I went to Frightmares for the first time in my life. We went to celebrate the brief return of a friend living in D.C. One eternal ray of sunshine. I lost my hat on the first ride. Then it was all screaming for my life and laughing so hard my sides hurt. Last night it was cold but we watched a friend pretend to be hypnotized and another friend boldly fulfill her wildest dream on the Terroride. We danced outside the front gate for 20 minutes next to a bright pink hearse with hydraulics. Just a bunch of clothing coordinated adults having a good time. Last night I forgot I hate the Wild Mouse ride, but I laughed anyway. Then a friend and I freaked ourselves out on the Rocket and I laughed some more.

Last night I quite literally fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Defining moments.

My mom once told me a story about how, during parent teacher conferences, my teacher pulled out a sheet of paper that deeply concerned her. She thought my psyche might be troubled or wondered if I was typically a violent child. I was 9. Who isn’t troubled in…I guess that’s only 3rd grade…nevermind.

We had been working on spelling sentences…or rather, using spelling words in sentences. I wish I knew which word spawned the shocking statement. My guess is “beautiful” but it could also have been “butterfly” or maybe even “heaven”. Unexpected? My teacher thought so too.

What I wrote was this:

“The beautiful butterfly flew high and it got hit by a chopper and went to heaven.”

…

…

Naturally.

Every time I think of this story, I imagine that the sentence actually WAS shocking somehow—gorily descriptive, for example—or that I was quite a bit younger and thus an orthographic genius, albeit a bit disturbed. I was probably just commenting on the terrible and thoughtless destruction humans reap on ecosystems around the world…

As for my mom, she thought it ended very nicely. In fact, she kept that sheet of paper for fond memory’s sake.

I also wrote, "Tasty peppers are what my mom and dad eat. I don't care for tasty peppers." Apparently I must have found a tasty something else...look at how chapped those lips are! Note also the pro-nature print.

(This picture is actually from 2nd grade...the beginning of the descent into madness.)

"50 Things to Do During the Day When You Work Nights."

#24: Borrow friend's expensive, fancy camera and cultivate a promising photography talent.

I apologize that few of these are actually artistically interesting, but this is what I did all week during my fall break so...deal with it. Oh, and some of them should be enlarged to be appreciated.

#3,16,26,51: Lunch with Stef.

...lunch to follow.

Man, things have gotten lame lately!

I’m not quite sure who cast a pall and a shadow over my clumsily constructed card house. I’m not sure how I ended up neck deep in the grave of my confused conscience—you know, the one boiling everything down to shovelfuls of “you’re not good enough.” I don’t know why I’ve found myself so desperately needy and left so desperately wanting…but I am…and I don’t want to be anymore.

In the midst of bereaving the loss of myself, I remembered the oft-reached conclusion that despite my shortcomings and my shortgoings, I deserve happiness. I deserve the fruit from a golden orchard. I deserve a shining platter of sunsets. I deserve the rolling hills of laughter and the harmony riding in the wind. I am not referring to something I’ve earned as a mere creature that breathes. Instead, I speak of an expectation or, more accurately, an opportunity to create a platter from a plate and an orchard from a seed.

I may only be capable of achieving incrementally for now; but as I gain pieces of sublime happiness, squinty-eyed and smiling, I will hold them up to the brilliance of the sun until as a coiling flame they consume my heart and feed on the veil that covers it.

I passed a man on campus awhile ago who, in all the wisdom of his years, was telling his granddaughter never to be ashamed to work for money. I passed him before he could add what I hoped would be a caveat about the mob and strip clubs. Nevertheless, I have since (tried to) take his advice to heart. I am doing something with my life. Perhaps I’m taking a longer, somewhat indirect, and more expensive route than you would have chosen but I am not you. I am the best in you and I will conquer the worst in me.

I am an eagle. I am a queen. I am captain.

I was made in the image of a God. I am power and wisdom. I am beauty and love. I am a daughter and a sister. I am a leader, a follower, a friend. I am a promise and a hope.

So help me, I will be happy too.

"ARUP Client Services this is Laura."

It is 8:31 at night. I am sitting in my 4 x 4 ft. cubicle staring with the emptiness of my mind. Sticky notes adorn my dual computer monitors and lengthy reminders are pinned up on my cloth covered walls. I have no personal photos or paraphernalia—nothing to identify the space as mine except for my nameplate and the training certificate of completion, framed and stuck shamefully in a corner.

It is now 8:41. I’ve been here since 5:30. Fifteen calls taken. Ask me a question. I have to answer. It’s my job. I’ll tell you how much it costs to order a Chlamydia test from the University of Stanford. I’ll tell you what’s included in a pediatric allergens profile. Egg white. Cow milk. Soybean. Wheat. Oat. I’ll tell you what tests our Cytogenetics lab does. I would tell you from the cute little call-center earpiece I wear.

8:51. Seventeen calls. Are you bored yet?

The phone is ringing, I think I’ll just…hold on a sec.

9:01. Nineteen calls. I only need one more to make the required 5 calls an hour. Oh man, the suspense is killing me.

Game over. No, Lyme disease is not included in these tests. Based on our website ARUPConsult.com Borrelia burgdorferi causes Lyme disease. If you want to test for Lyme disease then use these antibody tests. No, you don’t have to order a separate “Lyme disease” test. Thanks for calling.

Just don’t ask me what I’m doing here. Saving lives one phone call at a time.

What the...?

I waited for weeks. I prepared myself mentally. I practiced in the mirror…raised eyebrow, look of bewilderment, just a hint of a smirk. I picked a day when I would have time. Time to get ready. Time to do my best.

I did my hair. I put on makeup. I specifically wore a blue shirt. Just to spite them in my mind. I left my house early. I laughed inwardly at how great it would be. I thought somehow he was sharing my joke.

This is the result of my efforts. THIS is who I’ll be for the next 4 years:


Congratulations Utah, it seems you’ve won this time.