Tag!

A. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning.

B. Each player answers the questions about themselves.

C. At the end of the game the player tags 5 people, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment letting them know they've been tagged and asking them to read your blog.


Where were you 10 years ago:

Just finishing 7th grade. A time I have no desire to go back to. Not that 7th grade was particularly horrible, but I have yet to meet anyone that actually liked middle school. Plus we moved right before I started middle school, so I only knew about 3 people in my whole school (one of whom was Danielle). If you want proof of how awkward I was, just go look at my yearbook picture. No, on second thought, I think I burned that picture . . . or if I didn't I should have. At any rate, I'm not telling where it is.

Five things (that were) on my to-do list today:

1. Go to genealogy class. Try to stay awake. I succeeded at half of this one, anyway. I made it to class, but two hours is a long time to sit and listen. Especially when the teacher goes 1/2 an hour past that (which he invariably does). The good news is that I only have to go to one more class period and then I'm done for the term.

2. Work on my genealogy paper that is due Monday. Didn't happen. And I'm not telling how much I have left to do. (Ask me Monday at 9pm if you really want to know.)

3. Ride my bike to school. I did this and realized how out-of-shape I am. I thought walking 20 minutes each way to school had kept me in pretty good shape. Obviously I was wrong. Or University Parkway is a lot steeper than it looks. I'll go with the second.

4. Register my bike. I started this, but I couldn't figure out where the Serial number was. The campus police gave me a diagram with the registration paper that showed where the number should have been, but I couldn't find it. I also had no idea what length the bicycle frame was. At any rate, registering my bike has now been moved to my Tuesday to-do-list.

5. Deposit my tax return check in my bank account. I would have done this except that I forgot my checkbook! Depositing a check is a little hard to do without a deposit slip and an account number.

Five snacks I enjoy:

1. Cheese. In any way, shape, or form (except that nasty taco blend I accidentally bought a month ago that had pepper-jack cheese mixed in. Sicko!)

2. Chocolate. Always. Preferrably dark. Milk will do. White doesn't count as chocolate.

3. Keebler's wheatable crackers are my newest addiction. I could eat them anytime, anywhere. They're like wheat-thins, but WAY better tasting. A worthwhile find.

4. Dried fruit. Especially dried apricots, dried apples, and raisins. If only they weren't about $5 a bag!

5. Popcorn. I try not to pop it when I'm alone because I can easily down an entire bag of microwave popcorn single-handedly. It's just too addicting.

What would I do if I were suddenly a billionaire:

1. Build my own library. This would include window-seats, rolling ladders for the tall shelves, comfortable couches, and, of course, love sacks.

2. By a grand piano. And a music library to go with it.

3. Go see Wicked on Broadway. Forget about $280 tickets in SLC. I'll just do the real deal. And maybe I'll see a few other Broadway shows while I'm at it.

4. Go to Europe. I've always wanted to see the art and architecture in Italy and France, etc.

5. Give a bunch of money to humanitarian aid and/or do some cool service project.

Four of my bad habits: Do I have to confess this?

Okay, fine!

1. Staying up too late.

2. Checking email/facebook/blogs/news during really boring classes (especially my two-hour genealogy class)

3. Procrastinating

4. Putting stuff on the floor instead of putting it straight away. But, it usually stays in a pile. At least it's an organized mess, right?

Five jobs that I have had:

1. Filing papers for Mrs. Heileson

2. Treasure-hunting for bottles underneath my baby siblings' cribs

3. Pruning junipers in 97 degree weather (I don't miss that at all!)

4. Piano teacher

5. Watering the fruit trees. This involved putting a hose at the base of each fruit tree and waiting for 10 or so minutes until the basin around the tree filled with water. I didn't mind, though, because I got to bring a chair and book out and read while the trees watered. And I got paid!

Five things people don't know about me:

1. One of my legs is shorter than the other

2. I have always wanted to be a writer

3. When I was a baby my skin actually turned orange from eating too many apricots

4. I once at a whole bowl of cheese single-handedly. (It was a LONG time ago, okay!)

5. I really like talking in church (which is probably why I never get asked to do it).

5 people I'm tagging:

1. Beth

2. Malena

3. Janelle Dalton

4. Janel

5. Danielle

Phone Calls

Ever since I was very young, I have always hated making phone calls. Fourth grade was an especially bad year for me and phones. I can still vividly remember the extreme measures I went to in order to avoid talking on the phone. Just the thought of calling my friends was terrifying. I remember begging my older sisters to call my best friend for me. Even after the phone was ringing, I refused to touch it until Megan was actually on the line. "Are you sure it's really her?" I would ask tremulously. "It's not just one of her sisters?" Disgusted, my sisters would reassure me that it was, in fact, Megan; only then would I be persuaded to pick up the phone.

As I got older, I have become much more comfortable with the idea of making phone calls; however, last Monday I had an experience that made me consider reverting to fourth-grade and complete phone avoidence.

The day began innocently enough. I woke up, got ready for work, and found that I was feeling nauseous. I wondered if I should skip work, but since I wasn't seriously sick I decided to stick it out.
Work went fine; afterword I still only felt midly sick, so I decided I might as well keep busy. I went home, did laundry, washed my car, and took it down to Costco to fill up. That was when disaster struck. As I was standing there, waiting for my tank to fill, waves of nausea swept over me. Stumbling over to the nearest garbage can, I proceeded to empty my stomach . . . in front of at least 4 other cars. What a lovely sight for them, I'm sure. (Hey, at least I had the grace to do it in the garbage can, right?)

After that I decided that I should probably get home as quickly as possible. On the way back I stopped by my parents' house to pick up my laundry. While I was there, I made the fatal mistake of informing my mom that I had thrown up at Costco. Fully expecting her to approve of my quick thinking, I reassured her that I did make it safely to the garbage can. To my astonishment, she queried "Did you tell the employee there that you threw up?" The answer was a definite "No." My mom then had the gall to suggest that I should call Costco and let them know that I had thrown up "so they could change the garbage before it stinks."

Honestly, no wonder I used to hate phone calls!

I thought about leaving right then and there, but I figured I should probably humor Mom. (One thing I have gleaned from a lifetime of experiences— sometimes it’s just easier to humor your parents.) Reluctantly I picked up the phone and called Costco. I didn’t even know who to ask for. The main number just led to an automated list of departments. The gas station was not among those options (nor, unfortunately, was a “Vomit Removal Line"). Finally in desperation I opted for the Membership/Refunds department. I have great sympathy for the poor lady that was working in Refunds that day. I’m sure it wasn’t a question she normally hears. Imagine coming into work, picking up the phone and hearing the following
“Hello? I’m not really calling about refunds. I’m just calling to tell you that I threw up in your garbage. I just thought you might want to change the liner.”

If I had been her I would have hung up.

Luckily she was nice enough to thank me for calling before she hung up (after which she probably rushed off to tell all her co-workers about the weirdo that threw up at the gas pump and then was crazy enough to call back and report it).

Every story is supposed to have a moral. I suppose this one could be “Don’t throw up at Costco. Or if you do, don’t call them back." Either way, next time I have an accident at Costco, I’m going to make my sister do all the calling.

Childhood Memories

My nieces are obsessed with Dora the explorer. Eliza, who is almost 2, could say "Dora" almost as soon as she could say "Mama." Ouch. Eliza and Sage both have Dora cups, dolls, games, and coloring books. They couldn't get enough of her. But, the Dora movies are the WORST. At least they are extremely painful for adults. The Dora shows are so repetetive and boring that they make you want to scream after 2 straight minutes of hearing "I'm the map! I'm the map! I'm the map! I'm the map! I'm the map! I'm the map! I'm the map!" Pretty original screenwriting, huh?

While the Dora shows drive me crazy, I have to admit I had my own favorite cheesy movies when I was young. Fortunately for my parents, at that point Dora had not yet cursed the earth with her presence; however, there were other alternatives that were at least as cheesy (although notably better in musical quality).

One of the most notorious of these was the Sleeping Beauty Ballet on Ice. For those of my friends and blog readers that were unlucky enough (or was it lucky enough?) to be deprived of such pleasures, let me explain.

Sometime a long long LONG time ago my mom taped a ballet version of Sleeping Beauty on Ice from TV for us. It must have been done in the 1980s because the costumes were very . . . um . . . unique? Maybe scary is a better word. Picture a bunch of twenty and thirty-year old men in really tight white tights. Yuck. Most of them wore poofy tunics, but the prince (who we all thought was so handsome) wore a sleek, shiny vest that looked like it was made from fish scales. Who couldn't resist such glamour? The girls, on the other hand, were all in really really short dresses. And then there were the fairies. All four-- the yellow, green, blue, and purple fairies-- wore spiky headresses that looked slightly reminiscent of a pineapple. Basically the only redeeming quality was the beautiful music it was set to (let's be honest, you can't really go wrong with Tchaikovsky, can you?)

Spiky headresses notwithstanding, we LOVED Sleeping Beauty Ballet on Ice. We used to beg mom to let us watch it. Watching SBBI involved a lot more than just sitting in front of the TV in a glazed-over stupor. Each time we watched the beloved ballet, we chose a part in the ballet to play. Since Suzy was the littlest, she always got to be Sleeping Beauty (the good fortune of being the youngest, but at least we were comforted by the fact that Sleeping Beauty was asleep for most of the ballet and didn't have that prominent of a part). Being second youngest, Becca got next pick, and she ALWAYS picked the purple fairy. The purple fairy was by far the coolest of the fairies because she was the one that saved the prince. I think I wasted years of my life being jealous that I never got to be the purple fairy (maybe this was why I always took out my frustration by forcing Becca to be the boy whenever we played house!) Danielle always chose to be the bad fairy because she had such an interesting part. (Good thing she didn't know then that "she" was actually played by a man!) With all the exciting parts claimed, I always got stuck as the queen. Boring. The queen was old (well, compared to the fairies and Sleeping Beauty, anyway!), and she only had about 2 scenes in the whole movie.

Once the parts were assigned, we had to move all the furniture in the living room out of the way. (I'm sure Mom disliked having her living room rearranged, but she was always a good sport.) With the living room "stage" cleared, we were ready to perform. Each of us in turn got to dance along with our character as she appeared on the screen. The Wilson dancing troup was ready to perform!

I think there's a reason Mom never took any of us to dance lessons. Our family seems to have been granted a generous dose of musical talent, but when it comes to dance, we definitely linger in the shallow end of the gene pool. Our "dancing" mainly consisted of a jumble of random gymnastics moves (somersaults, cartwheels, etc.), running around the room, and twirling until we were too dizzy to stand up. Nevertheless, Mom was always supportive, even after watching us peform for the 5th (or 10th or 20th) time. It's a good thing she was, because we made a lot of memories, just from that one cheesy video tape.

I have yet to decide if I will introduce my children to Sleeping Beauty Ballet on Ice. I'm not sure I could handle seeing it that often. However, it did leave us with a lot of fun memories. And at least the music is better than Dora.

Technology Thoughts

Reading for classes can be very tedious, but when it comes to history, I often find the assigned books to be surprisingly thought provoking. Last week I had to read a book for my British History class called Sixties Britain. It detailed everything from the political revolution of the 1960s to the creation of miniskirts, to the advent of television. Reading about the 1960s made me very grateful I never had to live in them (sorry Mom and Dad)! I don't know how I would have handled some of the cultural fads of the sixties (clothing styles and hippies, for example). I come from a pretty conservative background-- a definite contrast to the liberal waves of the 60's. However, reading about the technological advances of the 1960s did did lead me to reflect on some of the changes that have occurred in our style of living since then. Even just during my lifetime, technology has exploded in leaps and bounds. I remember how exciting it was when we got our first cds. (I can only imagine how much more exciting it must have been for my parents to get cassette tapes after a lifetime of record players. Who wants to carry around a music recording the size of a frisbee?) Computers, cell phones, and other electronic devices carried the same aura of mystery and excitement.
One memorable technology change was the creation of the remote control. I remember what it was like to have no remote controls. We actually had to get up to change the channel on the TV (gasp!) (Funny we're suddenly back to those days in our aparment. But I think that's only because we can't find our remote . . . )
When we finally got our first remote control, it was a momentous occasion. Use of the remote was reserved only for extra-special events, such as days when we were sick. Maybe that had something to do with the set-up. If the truth be told, this was before the days of slick-cordless remotes. Our remote had a long, silver cord that ran all the way across the room and pluged into the VCR. It's a wonder that Mom didn't trip and break her neck with it draped along the floor (probably the reason it was relegated to sick days and sick days alone). But, nonetheless, it was still a remote and I felt like a princess on those rare days that I got to stay home and use it to watch normally-forbidden treasures, such as Disney cartoons or Sleeping Beauty Ballet on Ice.
It's funny how fast technology changes-- and how fast our lives change with it. No one would dream of having a TV with a plug-in-remote in this age. Nor would we be able to do without computers or DVDs or so many other inventions that have taken a firm hold in our homes. But at the time, there were no cordless remotes. Computers were almost unheard of and DVDs were yet to be created. In spite of that, we got along fine. Not only did we get along without all those technologies, but we were content without them. Without all these distractions, we actually spent more time doing things that really mattered-- spending time with family and friends, serving others, deeping our testimonies of the gospel. Maybe having a plug-in remote wasn't so bad after all.

Goals

I used to hate the word goals. I think my antipathy for goals began at the tender age of twelve, when I was introduced to the Young Women's Personal Progress Program. Personal progress always seemed so tedious to me. I would put off my goals until the last week or two before New Beginnings (the recognition night for the acheivement of said goals). Mom would always discover that I hadn't started on the goals and would force me to sit down and immediately make plans to finish them in time. This always seemed like such a tedious process to me. Did I really care what the definition of integrity was? Did I really need to write in my journal examples of times I had shown faith in my life? Without exception, I would end up picking the shortest and easiest goals to complete--ones like telling your mom you love her or doing an anonymous good deed for someone (I could always find someone's bed to make and have that completed in five seconds.) As far as I was concerned, goals were just another checklist to mark off as fast as possible so Mom would stop nagging me. I remember thinking with great relish "I can't wait until I'm out of Young Women and I never have to set another goal again!"

Obviously I realized the fallacies of this logic fairly quickly. Even after Young Women I found that there were times I still needed to set goals. When I started college, Mom helped me set goals to be more social and talk to people in my classes and at church. Dad "encouraged" me to set goals to earn enough money to pay for my year at the dorms myself, and later to pay for my mission myself (an encouragement I admittedly didn't appreciate at the time, but afterward was grateful for it). Begrudgingly, I had to admit that goal-setting didn't end with the presentation of my Young Women Medallion.

In spite of my continued efforts to set goals, my true conversion to goal-setting didn't happen until I became a missionary. As part of the missionary rules, missionary companionships were required to set goals we wanted to acheive for the transfer, the week, and the day. In addition, we were encouraged to work on personal goals individually. At first I found this annoying, tedious, and time-consuming, but as I began setting and acheiving personal goals, I was surprised to find that I actually liked it.

In the missionary guide, Preach My Gospel, in the section under goal-setting, it says:
"Goals reflect the desires of our hearts and our vision of what we can accomplish. . ."
"The ultimate measure of success is not in acheiving goals alone, but in the service you render and the progress of others." Reading this gave me a fresh perspective on the purpose of goals. Contrary to my twelve-year-old impressions, goals are not a torture-device created by parents to make their teenage daughters miserable. Goals actually make me happier. I love the satisfaction of knowing that I have set a goal and actually made it. It gives me hope and makes me want to try better. As Preach My Gospel says, "through goals, our hopes are transformed into action."

Lately I have been feeling a little bit down-- just not as happy as I'd like to be. It seems like life has become a boring trudge down the same barren paths-- school, work, school, work, etc. So, after some reflection I decided that maybe what I need is some new goals to brighten my perspective and give me fresh hope. With that in mind I came up with 3 new goals for myself:

1. Go to bed by 11pm every night. (This one will be the hardest, but I really want to do it. As motivation, I've promised to reward myself with a new haircut if I can stick with it for a week.)
2. Read scriptures before nighttime. (I always read them right before bed, and I'm always too sleepy to get much out of them. Time for a change.)
3. Write in my journal every day.

Already I'm more excited just thinking about these goals (and not just because of the prospect of a cute new haircut). It will be fun to see how my live improves from these few simple steps. At any rate, I'm off to a good start-- I already acheived two of them (scripture study and journal writing) for today. Now if I can just make it into bed on time-- I can picture the new haircut already!

Flu Season is Here

The past few days I have been sick with the flu. It seems to be spreading around Provo faster than spilled milk spreads down the crack between the leaves of our kitchen table. Three of the eight people in our dinner group are sick, two of my sisters just got over it, and countless other people I know keep coming down with it.
When I was in elementary school, I used to love getting sick because it meant that I got to stay home from school and watch movies all day. I especially loved getting to use the old orange dinner bell to summon Mom to my every whim. I felt like a princess-- pampered and spoiled with otherwise unheard of luxuries. Once I even had the good fortune to get sick with my younger sister Becca, and that was sheer heaven-- pampering plus a playmate. Life didn't get much better than that.
Now that I'm older, being sick isn't quite as exciting. The fun of sleeping and watching movies all day is somewhat diminished by the nagging thought that I'm going to have a massive pile of homework (and conversely a pitifully small paycheck) when I finally recover. But, after a few days to contemplate the perks and pitfalls of being sick, I decided the only fair course is to admit that both sides do exist to being sick.

Perks
1. I get pampered right and left (by roomates, siblings, parents, and friends). I got visitors with soup, flowers, treats, and my friend Jen even gave me a hand massage. There's no better way to get noticed than getting sick. You don't believe me? Try it sometime.
2. Finally catching up on all that sleep I've been missing. (My schedule yesterday was something like this: Get up, take ibuprofen, sleep. Get up, say hi to Janel (who brought me get-well presents), sleep. Get up, shower, go to the store for soup and juice, sleep. That many naps is like heaven (Suz, I'm sure, can attest to that).
3. I get to catch up on some of the movies I've been wanting to watch, but haven't had time for.
4. I get to postpone my British History test. Ahhhh, bliss!
5. More time to post on my blog! (Enjoy this while it lasts. 3 posts in the last week is a feat that won't be soon repeated).
6. I have an excuse not to go out with creepy guys. (Okay, I haven't actually used that one, but I think it would be convenient if I did!)

Pitfalls
1. Coughing all day long. Yuck, yuck, yuck.
2. Fevers. When I napped this afternoon, I couldn't get cool, no matter how many layers I shed or how many blankets I threw off the bed. Thank goodness for Ibuprofen.
3. Missing so much school and work. As nice as it is to be home, the work that's piling up is not going to be fun.
4. Not being able to hold my nieces and nephews. I'm going through Cindy-withdrawal after 5 or so days without seeing her. How will I survive?

In conclusion, after reviewing the above lists, it seems that the perks do in fact outweigh the pitfalls of being sick. (I don't know if my self-esteem will ever recover after this!) All the same, though, I'll be glad once I'm up and about again.

Guess Kim's Age

When it comes to height, not everyone in this world is evenly blessed. The rest of my family falls into the 5'5"-5'10" range of average or tall. Not me. I'm the Wilson anomoly.
Measuring in at barely 5'0 (5' 1/8" on a good day), I have a disturbing ability to fit into clothing from the "Misses" section at the department stores. I can remember growing up how much I hated our regular height-measuring sessions. Dad used to get out a level (we have to be absolutely precise on such important measurements!) and measure to see how tall we were growing. Then, he would mark a line on the wall, indicating our height. The first few times I dashed over with my siblings, excitedly demanding that Dad check my height too. It didn't take long for me to lose my enthusiasm for this ritual. You can only measure so many times how much you haven't grown before it gets really monotonous.
Not only am I short, but I have the baby face to fit my height. When I was a kid, one of my favorite games to play with visitors was "Guess Kim's Age." Suffice it to say, we had a lot of very embarrased guests by the end of that game. In my defense, I had to do something to ease the annoyance of being constantly mistaken for Becca's younger sister.
Well, eventually I grew up, but I didn't grow taller. The funny thing about getting older is that I find myself initiating the "Guess Kim's Age" game less and less. I don't have too. People everywhere take the initiative to bumble my age without my having to worry about encouraging it on. I've had a few good laughs over some of my favorite responses to "Guess Kim's Age." Here are just some of the memorable age guesses I have received over the years:

1. At Excalibur, the hotel we stayed at in Las Vegas over Thanksgiving break, we decided to check out the weight room one morning. My dad, my fifteen-year-old sister, Heather, and I headed down to see what they had. At the front desk, we asked about the weight room. The lady at the desk began rattling off "The weight room costs $20, and you have to be at least eighteen years-old, so these two couldn't go."

2. At the beginning of November I went to the polls to vote in our local election. When I stepped up to the booth and told them my name, the lady at the desk said. "You don't look old enough to vote!"

3. On my mission, in one of my areas my companion and I went to the hospital to ask about volunteering as clergy there. The lady at the desk peered down her nose at us and then said "Now, you understand there is an age requirement for this." A little surprised I answered "No, I didn't realize that." She looked back at me. "How old are you?" she inquired. "I'm twenty-one," I replied. Suddenly she looked very uncomfortable. "Really?" she asked, confused. "I thought you were thirteen."

4. Also on the mission one time I slipped out the driver's side of our car, only to have an old man ask me "Can you even see to drive that car?" After I assured him that I could, he muttered "I swear they get younger all the time!"

5. Yet another time on the mission, my companion and I got invited in to talk to a house full of creepy older men. We were attempting to testify to them when one of them interrupted (much to my companion's chagrin) "Are you a mother-daughter combination?" Later on, they asked if I was thirteen.

6. (This one isn't a mistake about my age, but it's such a funny illustration of my youthful looks that I'm including it anyway.) During the summer my ward had a video scavenger hunt. One of the things we were supposed to video-tape was a cross-dresser. Somehow I got elected to perform for this one, but my group decided it wasn't good enough to have me dress up like a man. Because of my height and looks, they insisted I dress as a little boy. The most tragic part is that I actually fit the clothes from the little boy's section. Complete with wrestling T-shirt, cargo shorts, and Spiderman backpack, I fit the part. Too bad I forgot to bring my still camera.

7. When I finished my mission, Mom and Janel were gracious enough to come pick me up at the mission home. Later Janel confided to me that she hadn't recognized me when she first opened the door. "You look older now," she told me. "You actually look like you're seventeen now instead of thirteen!"

Random Lists

4 Jobs I've Had
1. Religion/Family History Reference Assistant, Harold B. Lee Library
2. Server at the MTC Cafeteria\
3. Telesurveying (may I die before I do this again-- 3 weeks was 3 weeks too long!)
4. Secretary, bills manager, lawn mower, orchard pruner/waterer/picker/canner, gardener, helper with everything else Dad wanted to do (including painting, calking, sheetrocking, mudding, putting in pipes, putting in electric lines, pulling up carpet and any other remodeling work). Pretty much I was free manual labor (okay, maybe not free as in cost, but free as in way too readily available. No wonder I started looking around for other options!)

4 Things I Do Instead of Going to Bed
1. Email/Facebook/Play around on the computer
2. Look at family members' blogs or update this blog
3. Listen to my roomates' never-ending dating traumas or share my own dating traumas (in an apartment of 4 girls, there just never seems to be enough of this. Someone always has a creepy guy interested in them, or wants to get back with their ex-boyfriend or can't decide which guy to date, etc. etc. etc. It's enough to stay up every night and expound upon.)
4. Read cheesy but captivating books like Twilight and the newest Harry Potter.

4 Most Common Cravings for this Week
1. CHOCOLATE. (I'm not even sure if this can accurately be counted as a craving any more. It's more like a fact of life. I'm awake, I want chocolate.)
2. Boo berries (I'll be honest-- after Danielle's blog post I had them on the brain. Luckily, since it was actually Halloween they were on sale for only $1.50, which relieved most of my guilt over giving in to such frivilous urges.)
3. Anything with cheese in it, but especially a ham and cheese sandwich (sadly my ham seems to have disappeared into that black hole in the back of the fridge that always manages to swallow up the food you know you had a day ago).
4. Fresh fruit. Obviously I need to go grocery shopping some time soon . . .

4 Special Features of My Apartment
1. My bedroom window, with no screen on it. I discovered this within a couple of days of moving in, when the flies started mysteriously appearing in the apartment. One side of the window is covered with a screen, but for some reason the other side isn't. At least it makes a perfect location for launching water ballons or other treats at unsuspecting victims below!
2. The half-performing microwave. Every time I warm a plate of food up, I pull it out to find half the plate still ice-cold and half the plate near boiling. Doesn't that go against some law of physics somewhere? Light and dark can't be in the same place in the same time. I didn't think heat and cold could be either.
3. The Fishbowl. Monticello is unique in that it has 2 apartment complexes that face each other, with a gap somewhere between 15 and 20 feet apart. The common area between is appropriately called the fishbowl because at such a short distance, everyone can hear and see everything that goes on in all the other apartments. Example: The other night a girl from the ward came over to share her latest dating trauma with our apartment. As we were all listening and discussing it, one of my roomates got a text message from a guy that lives in the complex directly across from us, in the basement (we're on the 3rd floor). The text said "We can hear you from here!" Yikes.
4. A peculiarly high engagement rate. Girls that live here seem to catch marriage like the plague. The girl that lived in this apartment before me just got engaged a couple of weeks ago. The apartment next door, where I used to live, had at least 2 people get engaged there in the last year. We'll have to start taking bets on who's next.

4 Books I've Read over 15 Times
1. Beauty (by Robin McKinley)
2. A Little Princess ( I used to pretend that Mom was mean Miss Minchin when she would make me do my chores and I was Sara, the heroine, who never retaliates, but meekly obeys and makes everything better by imagining that she was a princess.)
3. The entire Work and the Glory series. I'm not sure exactly when Janel got me hooked on them, but I found an entry in my journal, dated 3-12-95 that noted that I was reading the Work and The Glory volume 4. After that I re-read them regularly, especially around Christmas when I knew we'd get the latest volume.
4. Pride and Prejudice

4 Projects I can't Seem to Finish
1. Writing my life history. Oh wait, I haven't even started that one. Dang.
2. Organizing my room. Every time I swear to, another pile of stuff appears. Maybe fore my new year's resolution . . .
3. Scanning the family photos for Mom
4. Memorizing The Ride of Paul Revere by Washington Irving. I've started it half-a-dozen times and every time I get stuck after the first page.

4 Silly Things I did in 4th Grade
1. Read every baby-sitter's club, Sweet Valley Twins, boxcar kids, and Nancy Drew book ever published multiple times over. Did I really not have anything better to do with my time?
2. Convinced myself that half of the boys in my class secretly had crushes on me and confided my hunch to my best friend, Megan.
3. Felt bitterly disappointed when my pumpkin/easter mobile/anything else we made in class never won any of Mrs. Heilesons' regular art contests. I guess art just isn't one of my talents.
4. Got scared to death after watching the movie The House With a Clock In Its Walls in library time and refused for years afterward to even look at a John Bellair book or have a ticking clock anywhere in my bedroom. (The plot involved an evil sorcerer who left a clock inside a house that was really a bomb that could go off at any time.)

4 Goals I Have Made Every Time I Have Made Goals
1. Get to bed early (obviously the time this list was posted answers any questions about how well I have succeeded at this goal)
2. Practice the piano more.
3. Organize my time (and not wait to do homework until 2 hours before it's due)
4. Be more outgoing-- talk to people instead of waiting for them to talk to me.