Four More Days

Oh man, so close, so close, so close. Freedom is tauntingly on the tip of my tongue, refusing to answer my groans for more. It wants me to beg, to cry out that I need it and want it. We're in a carefully aligned waiting game and Freedom does not relent on its timelines. A cruel master, but I enjoy it none the less. On May 4th, it will be mine until Summer ends.

Meaning, of course, that I'm almost done with Finals and am rocking my socks off waiting for this semester to be over. I'm already organizing myself to take my written exit exam, I don't have a senior project, and am completely registered for my last semester at Old Dominion. I am one step closer to being certified to crawl into other people's head and sort through the destruction left behind from their childhoods like a lone survivor sifting through the ashes of the Z-War.

Mainly, I am updating to touch base as I have nothing of value to say. But look how prettily I can tell you useless information! I use adjectives and everything.  I make you want to know that I am dull and lackluster right now. Well, I am normally dull and lackluster, but we will not discuss that at the moment. Instead I will roughly outline my week with excitement drawn on from reserve since I am currently operating on five hours of sleep, caffeine, and coconut/pineapple cake.

Mainly my life has been work recently, school reviews for the finals upcoming, and dishing out that awesome presentation. Oh man, we improv'd so hard, but it was amazing. I had witty retorts for the 'Cop's' questions and everything. I thugged up my appearance and wore a name tag. I got an A so boo-yah mother suckers! Hmm. Mostly that's it. I'm still in love with my little Ninja and am looking for ways to slightly upgrade my little man. Maybe a new stereo, looking for some wicked seat covers that don't exist. I may end up having to make them myself.

Oh! Also, in a bout of random inspiration I have begun running again, though a bit intermittently. I've run twice this week with a pal of mine. I would like to say the first night I ran maybe three-fourths of a mile and last night I ran the whole thing but I am not sure. However, I'll be corrected and can update that information later if its important enough to me. Anyways, I'm slow and out of shape but I'm doing it. Woo!

So, because I don't like the short and breezy way this turned out, I'm going to post a part of a 'prologue' of a story I write in when experiencing writer's block or intense boredom. The rest of this post in entirely irrelevant, much like everything before this disclaimer, only you haven't wasted your time reading it yet.

AND GO.

Wrose is not the sort of person to take home to soft hearted Mother, in her flour specked apron and warm smile. She is not a gentle soul who handles confinement well, and when pressured and anxious, will lash out in any way she can. This includes flailing, cursing, or making sarcastic remarks.

Wrose was feeling very, very confined in the shotty prop-jet barely humming through the sky over the barren, lackluster landscape that remained the same even after crossing the border separating Utah from Idaho. Though, they were finally over the mountains and she could see I-84, randomly spotted with cars, and lots of roaming dots that had to be cows.

The plane was slowly descending, actually, which made her tense. Sure, she loved the barren wasteland that was Southern Idaho, including Boise. However, that did not mean she was an idiot. She hadn’t asked if the pilot went to school anywhere locally, and she was probably safer not knowing. Sure, trusting the state’s education system was a bit like letting a stranger show your kid his awesome puppy in the back of his windowless van that bore the license plate ‘KDMGNT’. It just screamed horrible, horrible idea.

She began to distract herself by skeptically analyzing the rest of the occupants of the relatively small cabin. A handful were Airmen in full uniform on their way to their new duty station, Mountain Home, about forty-five minutes from Boise and further south into the state. Most were older people who all seemed to be flying into Boise for a wedding, birth or funeral.

Didn’t anyone travel just to travel these days?

She shrugged to her own thoughts, figuring not because of the abysmal economy. Plus, she was pretty sure that she may be one of the only people in the world who voluntarily loved the arid southern half of the state the way she did. None of these people were going to appreciate the way the mountains seemed purple in the evening and dawn, or how they disappeared when there was a fog, or the scent of sage in the scalding July heat. Or how impossible free from zombies it was during the winter. No one had any appreciation for the good things anymore.

Granted, she used to hate all of those things with a fiery, angst ridden teenage passion. Except the zombies. But at least she’d matured since then. Now she understood and enjoyed the little things that made others want to cut themselves.