Runs Deeper Than My Bones

Today, Ben is 18.
So weird.

I remember being young (not that I'm not still on the youngish end of life) and thinking that 18 or even 20 is sooooo incredibly old. I remember not even being able to imagine being that old. It was out of the grasp of my naive mind.
Now this isn't to say that I don't feel the same about oh, let's say, being 40 or 50 right now. Whew, OLD. Kidding. Mostly.

On Monday, Sara asked if she could come over 10 or so minutes before Ben got home so she could talk to me. I thought, "Oh no! They're gonna break up, she's coming over to tell me in advance!" Then I was like, "Psh. Why would she talk to me about that! You crazy, KL."
I'm glad I can argue logically with myself. Turns out point two holds the most water.
She just wanted to ask if it was ok for her to come over at 6:30 this morning in order to surprise him. Being that they're both uber busy, it turns out this was the only time they would get to see each other.
When she arrived this morning, Ben was in the shower. He figured out pretty quick that Sara was here when Dad started saying "Sara" really loud. It worked out well though as he only spent about one minute in the bathroom as opposed to his usual 10 or 15 minute post-shower "steam baths" (I don't know (whoever said girls spend more time in front of the mirror than boys did not live in a household like mine)). Sara was waiting for Ben down in his room and he followed wrapped in a towel. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Well they're both 18 now."
Dad added, "And it's more than the speedo he normally swims in."
Ah, mental imagery.
Ben was quick to tell the both of us he was wearing boxers underneath the towel. How great for you.
He got some presents, drank some of the nastiness-in-a-cup that he calls coffee, then I left for work (to drink REAL coffee like a pro).
He's got swim team tonight. He swims a lot. Like, more than any sane person.
And I have Refinery.
So we probably won't see each other much, if at all, til late.

I'm glad he's my brother.
I couldn't really ask for a better one.
I wouldn't anyways.
I'm thankful for the 18 years we've had together and hope for many more to come.

I also want to wish a happy 20th to CBF! We'll celebrate it someday.

To all the babies born today: I wish you all the best.
-KL

Confetti's More Fun Than Paper

It never fails.
The Friday I have something major due, directly followed up by something else, is always the Friday that Katey can't work.
Now, I'll forgive her cause she's nice...well, except for that one morning she scheduled off because she was going to the premiere of "New Moon".

Regardless, my day began at 5:30.
Mmm 20* darkness. How I love you.

Fridays are kind of a hectic day down at ol' Barracuda. I can never remember if "Friday On" or "Friday Off" is more busy. Whichever one today was, that's the one.

The end of this story that I'm trying to get to is that I had a paper due today. And by paper, I mean, freaking-mass-of-boring-crap-and-way-too-long-requirement-to-ever-benefit-mankind. I was less than thrilled. It doesn't help that I really don't like the prof. Usually, if I like the prof at all, or just have a general respect for them, I'll put a good amount of effort into it. This guy is kind of a jerk. He's probably one of the most brilliant people I will ever meet. No lie. But he's pretty full of himself and his scholarly ways. And he likes Russia. Really, I think that's where my fundamental fountain of dislike for him stems from.

So, I'm "a history major". I like history. People sometimes gag when I admit that. I'm used to it.
If I were to pick one place and one time of history to NOT study, it would probably be Soviet Russia. Guess what my entire semester of "Writing History 300" has been about?
Did you guess? Eastern Polynesia during the Age of Imperialism, you say? Nope. What is Stalinism and Soviet Russia, Alex?

I could go on complaining about this man and how the other class I'm taking from him (a 102) is probably 9.4x harder than any other course I've yet to take in my entire academic career, but I won't.

So this paper. It was due electronically at 5 PM. I sent it in at about 5:03.
It was crap.
I'm kind of ashamed. But what am I gonna do? I felt no interest, no tie, no inspiration to this paper. It was probably the most cut and dry assignment I've ever had to do. And oh yeah, it was supposed to be 12-15 pages.

It wouldn't surprise me if I get a 'C'.
That'd be new.

What is surprising is how done I am.
I'm so tired of school. Fifteen years is so long. Too long. The majority of my life has been spent in education.
Now, I have nothing against education. I rather enjoy learning. I just wish we didn't weigh our futures so heavily upon what we learn within the first quarter of our lives. Shouldn't all of life be a learning process? Why do we have to have it all done, in the formal sense, so early on?
The quandaries of a third-year college student.

After the paper-which-shall-not-be-named, I drove off to Ralph's for yet another APNC dinner. This time I bought the beans. My hamburger was burnt. So eventful.
Mostly, I went upstairs with the chill'uns. I actually got little Rebecca K. to smile and play with me! That right there was a feat I never expected to accomplish.

Let me just say how awesome it is being around the kids and youth at events such as these. Not APNC in particular, but any such function. Don't get me wrong, I love me a little "Adult Time", but being around kids is just so much more rewarding. As long as you're goofy and willing to be on their level (which vertically I easily am), they'll take you in. They're agendaless! They won't ask, "so what did you think of this" or "so how was your day", but not really care. There's little need for awkward, forced conversation.
Therefore, most of my post-dinner time was spent catching ribbon butterflies shooting out of an elephant's trunk and playing hot-potato with various balloons. And I enjoyed myself.

Now, what says Post-APNC-dinner-after-party in KaraLynn's mind?
I'm glad you asked.




Crashing a 14-year-old's birthday party, duh.


Don't you just love it when you think your entire evening is going to suck and it actually turns out way better than you thought possible? I know I do.

Although it was kind of ironic that at this after-party, we watched Anastasia. I did however inform the naive girls that in reality, Anastasia was brutally murdered with the rest of her family. No one escaped. Even the evil Rasputin was poisoned, drowned, shot, and thoroughly hypothermiated to the death.
Now that's enjoyable history at work.

Cheers to the immensely inaccurate animated portrayals of historical events which will forever be etched into the future generations' minds (Disney's Pocahontas, this means you!),
-KL