Thursday, July 30, 2009

The end of summer term

It is finished. Well not quite. I still have one more term to go, but it's all student-teaching and no more classes. Which I suppose is also not entirely true. There's one more online course to get through but it's not until the end of it's like having an entire month vacation. :) However abruptly classes finished, an overwhelming feeling of peace flooded me. We've been going full-tilt through this six week course eight hours twice a week, that it is so.....weird to be suddenly done. I feel like there's something more that I have yet to do for classes. Am I missing an assignment? Nope. Everything is turned in, and all presentations are given to classmates who honestly don't care. Not to worry -- I take no offense to a classroom full of people not paying attention to me. In fact, it reminds me of my classes of high school students, so it's good practice for when I have students in a month.
I've been looking forward to the end of this term since the very beginning, and now that it's over I don't really know what is going to happen in the next week and a half. My entire summer revolved around classes and assignments that were due -- that's how I kept track of the days, but now there is nothing to fill my calender....hmm.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Anxiety doesn't fool around the first time

Anxiety attacks are funny things. Okay, maybe not so much funny as...panicky? I haven't had an attack in a long time -- possibly a year -- but I know the sure signs of an attack when I feel them. It's not easy to explain, but the best I can come up with is that my heart starts beating faster, I get nervous, I can't sit still, and the worst part about it is I have NO IDEA why they come. I mean, I could be sitting laughing with friends and then suddenly this dread starts to seep through me. Really, it's a feeling of doom.
But this time, I was in class with my wonderful cohort waiting for class to start when I felt the subtle approach of....anxiety. My first instinct was to bolt. Just leave the room and start walking somewhere. But class was going to start in a few minutes, so I sat still like a good student and hoped that after a few deep breaths it would pass. But it didn't. We're running on four hours now with no sign of relief.

Anxiety attacks really cause three main reactions: (okay, so they may not be reactions per se, but they are urges.)

1. I need to run. Or do something else incredibly active just to release the pent up energy and hopefully scare away the anxiety blues. I usually feel trapped and claustrophobic so the best thing for me is to get out somewhere and just run.
2. I suddenly feel a great need to organize and straighten anything and everything within sight. This is bordering on OCD. I think it's a need to have some control over something in my life, so I'll clean or organize my room, your room, my shoes, files in the computer -- you name it, I'll organize it.
3. And finally it's the desperate desire to either cry or scream at the top of my lungs. When I first started getting these attacks, the reaction was almost always to cry. And cry I did no matter where I was -- the dining hall at school, the bathroom (if I could make it there before the waterworks started), or in the lounge of the resident halls. It really didn't matter where I was because anxiety would crash down on me with almost no warning.

And now here I sit, neither running, or organizing, or screaming/crying. But the energy still courses through my veins, and my heart is still pounding, and it still feels like my stomach has become home to the pit of dread. The only thing I can do is ride it out. Another few hours maybe? Who knows...

The lure...

She glanced up to see how much further she had to go and saw two sets of doors at the far end of the hall. They were closed off with yellow tape and the narrow windows were covered with paper. Her stomach rose as a tingling sensation started in her throat and spread throughout her body in a matter of seconds. “Get off her. Let me finish the job.” Her breathing came in quick, sharp gasps; and sped even faster as the beat of her heart picked up speed. As quickly as the tingling spread throughout her body, a wave of absolute numbness followed, paralyzing her body. She tried to look away, but her neck forced her to stare excruciatingly through the tape-covered doors at the scene within the gym.

Judah,” she whispered. She could no longer feel her heart beating. It was there a second ago, but had somehow lurched to a stop in the space of a breath. She watched his body drop with the force of a single bullet to the head. Moments later Cameron fell too. The raw, metallic smell of blood attacked her senses. No! God, don’t do this! Please don’t do this! I can’t—I can’t stand it! Just stop—

Yup, here's another one. Although, this is much closer to publication than the other teaser. Samantha is in a wheelchair. Judah and Cameron are...well, you'll just have to find out about them. Enjoy.

Monday, July 20, 2009


She brushed her hair out of her direct line of sight and shoved her sunglasses farther up the bridge of her nose, hiding her eyes completely. She would pass him in ten paces, then she could release the breath she was holding out of habit. Grateful for the shadows her eyes were bound in, she boldly glanced up to meet his eyes. She had to force her expression to remain indifferent, but she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching slightly in recognition and acknowledgment. She kept her face forward and continued past him, her steps unfaltering.
One, two, three, she mentally counted his receding footsteps and let her breath out through tight lips. As tempting as it was to turn around and glance at his retreating back, she let her feet carry her forward without thought. No idea, she mused; he has no idea. The thought was smug as she remembered the last two months and the ordeal it caused. It was only slightly ironic that he had no idea just how much he had been in the center of it all. In the lion's jaws unknowingly, eh? Well at least there is no need to involve you in past dangers. It's a moot point now anyway. She took the next left corner purposely, walking into the alley without a second thought.

You hooked yet? Well good, that's the point. But unfortunately, you won't find out anything new until it comes out in paper form. Preferably hard-back, but I can't afford to be picky at this point. I could let a few more details slip through to the blog world, but it would only frustrate you more....
Until then,

Friday, July 3, 2009


Sometimes I wonder, why did God make me like this? How did I turn out the way I am today? And no I'm not talking about my character, or personal problems I may have in my life. For once, I am referring to appearance -- my, ahem, physique. I mean, how do people turn out the way they do? How in the world did I turn out this way? It's always a wonder to me how metabolism and puberty either screw people over royally or give them a boost to model status. Baby fat melts away over night and tans even out perfectly without a hint of a burn. How does this happen? Short chubby girls stretch their fat into a sexy 5'8" frame.

And yet here I stand, 5'2" and the only stretching I've done is horizontal (as evidence in my discreet stretch marks). I don't get it. Why is there no escape from lingering baby fat? I stay active, played sports all my life, and I've never been what anyone would consider 'slim'. I am not about to beat my body into submission to fit the standards of society; however, I do ponder what it would be like to look like one of those never have to try hard to look absolutely
amazing. There are girls who can roll out of a sleeping bag after camping for a week and still somehow manage to look refreshed, adorable...appealing. And yes, I envy those girls. There's no shame in admitting that. I just can't see how they manage such wonders.

And I never will.