Searching Stars

Searching Stars

Sitting in the cooling sand,

While the gloaming settles round us.

Wavelets whisper against the land

As if to still the world with trust.

Here I tell my secrets,

My dreams and all my soul.

Here are all my doubts met,

By a private, comforting lull.

With the sun set all my worries,

Burning rays that brought no peace.

In the silence there's no hurry,

This night to struggle brings a cease.

The stars map out my future

As they appear in the gentle light,

To promised happiness they lure,

Leading me carefully into soft night.

Night that brings tomorrow

With hopes and dreams I've not yet seen.

Night that brings a new day,

With beauty that has not yet been.

...But now I watch it coming

And my heart cries out for yesteryear.

The pain in truth is numbing...

The future should not bring me fear.

But the sun comes in the morning

And sheds its light on all my days

...There's no hiding from the mourning.

It will find me no matter where I stay.

And those daylight hours will burn me,

Though my mind stays in the night

And I can only pretend to be free

When surrounded by the twilight.

Yet sit in cooling sands I will

And let my troubles seep

Out of my mind and fingers til

The night takes me in sleep.

-KristiAnne Atkinson-

Talking with Tarantula's

The Tarantula's name is Killer. He's as big as my fist with more eyes-that probably see much more-than I care to think about. He's covered in thick brown hair and he moves a little slower than frozen molasses. You see, he is very shy. You would be too, if you were his size and lived in a house with four sporty, rambunctious young boys--Who happened to find it entertaining to shake your cage to see if you would move.

He became the newest member of one of the households I work at last week, when the six-turning-seven year old's father presented him as the paramount birthday gift.

As I mopped up the waterfalls pouring from my eyes while I chopped onions at the house this morning, I happened to glance down at my elbow to find him watching me with all those beady little eyes.

"Well," I spoke in nasally tones, trying not to sneeze, "it's nice of you to finally grace us with your presence sir." I nodded at him cordially, "Those boys have been awfully keen on pulling you out of your reticence. Not that I blame you for hiding really, I'd be frightened if someone put their face that close to me as well."

His little hairy body bobbed slowly up and down. I was reminded irrestibly of Harry Potter's first encounter speaking parseltongue to a python in the London zoo. I couldn't resist.

"Can you...understand me?" I asked slowly.

Killer simply stared at me unblinkingly. Can tarantula's blink I wonder? Hmmm...but perhaps that is a question for another time.

"Hmmm." I said. "You know Mr. Killer, the more I see you, the less frightened I become of you, and the more sympathetic I grow. It seems you enjoy a quiet conversation as much as I do. I notice you only come out now-when it's just me humming along here in the kitchen."

At this point the four year old and his playmate came running into the room screaming.

"I'm gonna spank you-I'm gonna Spank YOU!" They bellowed at each other.

My legs became a mighty fortress and the kitchen an endless track. Killer quickly retreated into his coconut home.

I fed the boys their lunch of slightly warmed hot dogs with apples and cheese and sent them back to their upstairs playroom/battlefield.

I turned to the plastic cage next to the sink.

"That was an adventure wasn't it, Mr.Killer? Goodness those boys are silly. I do wish I had that much energy, don't you?"

Killer stuck one leg out of his coconut, and then another.

Eventually he re-emerged from his hidey hole and we spent the afternoon having a lovely conversation about the best methods to cook stew, how to entertain children without electronics, and what Santa might be bringing the boys for Christmas. After all-how do you top a tarantula?

I got to thinking after I left this afternoon-that perhaps I will never be cured of my inexplicable desire to speak to little furry critters. Of course, it could be an even worse sign that I seem to be under the impression that they understand me, and are communicating back to me in whatever various sundry ways they can.

This realization hit me when I was dropping off dinner at a friends house, and I was mid-conversation with a perversely mean cockatu who takes particular issue with human females. What am I doing? I wondered. This bird probably thinks I'm insane. Of course, that thought just proved my issues went even deeper.

I thought back on all the conversations I've had with God's smaller, speech debilitated creatures over the course of my life and it hit me like that crazy flock of sparrows that attacked me behind the outhouse in the middle of Idaho.

I have a problem.

Does this problem stem from feeling that there are not enough humans on whatever brainwave channel I'm using and so I must release myself to the animals? Or am I simply unable to consider that any living creature might not be able to communicate with the world around it?

Now come the deeper questions. Am I right? Am I simply more in tune with nature? Or am I an escapee from an asylum for Disney princesses gone wrong? After all I'm pretty sure the birds in all the movies I've seen sing along with the princess-rather than attack her at every turn.

Did you know I've been attacked by more than 22 different types of birds that I can count? Five of those in flocks?

Perhaps the birds are the more intelligent animals and they can sense whatever it is that is wrong with me?

Head Tenants: Miss Frank

Do you ever start talking and then realize that everyone in the room is giving you far more attention than anyone else has received...and perhaps more than you should be given? Have you realized that your audience reacts with gasps and enthusiastic laughter-to something you actually meant to be a rather serious thought? Have you ever then realized that it is because what you are saying should really not be said in the company to which you are narrating it?

This is a frequent occurance for me. And not quite a pleasant one. But you know, it is not completely my fault.

There is another head tenant, you see. One with whome I am sure some of you are intimately familiar, but who I have failed to mention so far.

Her name is Miss Frank. She has an opinion on everything, and feels absolutely no compunction to silence when that opinion is offensive, misdirected or even downright ridiculous. So, listening to this woman as a third party in most conversations and all lectures and intellectually inspiring speeches, naturally makes me forget that others have not heard her...and consequently when her shoking words come out of my mouth I become the full recipiant of every appalled (and generally highly entertained) listener's rebuttals, sarcastic remarks, teasing and of course, hilaric laughter.

She has most certainly caused some of the most embarrassing scenes in my life.

For example, when she doesn't understand something she hears, she will insist upon knowing its meaning. Even if it sounds like the definition could be something highly inappropriate. Even if I am in a classroom full of people who obviously know what the word means, and are made uncomfortable at its mention. College lectures were one of her most inspired scenes of devastation. However, no experience truly conquers the time she demanded that I know the meaning of the word circumcision, in a classroom full of highschool freshman. And kept demanding, despite the teachers assurances that she could explain to me later, that I draw out an explanation.

Another of her most infamous tricks is to spit out my opinion on a person before I have fully discovered their character. This inevitably leads to horrible regret. But occasionally, very occasionally, it can get me out of sticky situations in quite a jiffy. I once began a friendship with the friend of a roommate online. I would talk to this boy sometimes for several hours a week, and we grew to like each other rather quickly. He became determined to meet me. Which would have cost him quite a pretty penny, since he lived in Missouri and I in Rexburg, Idaho at the time. He started talking very seriously about a relationship. Miss Frank was terrified. This boy was not mormon. A relationship with him could never really be possible. But for a while she held back her opinion. Then one day he sent me a picture of himself. Oh yes. I'm serious. He then asked my frank opinion. Well-he did ask. Miss Frank told him without my permission that he was rather homely and should definitely shave that scraggly young man beard...but that it didn't matter any way as I could not be attracted to him because he could not be my eternal companion and a relationship would be superfluous. The not-really-existant relationship was then permanently terminated. As you can imagine.

She gives me a lot of cause to repent.

Today she out did even herself however, because I didn't even see it coming. I was proud of myself for actually speaking up in Relief Society in fact (where I am usually quiet and shy-feeling as though I am a mouse in a room of spiritual giants) when she opened her obsidious maw and let out the first thing that came to her socially inept mind.

The lesson was beautiful. It was on how we should treat our spouses and children (and for us of the younger generation, it was a consideration of future relationships, and a look into the manner in which our parents have to have picked up some of their favorite punishments in years past). Everyone shared comments about ways they honored their husbands and ways their husbands glorified them, how they maintained peace in their homes with kind, loving children who never fought.

Miss Frank said to me, "You should say something encouraging, so that the others who are sitting here going 'uh, my children fight all the time, does that make me a horrible mother?' maintain some hope for the future and realize that total home peace is really a non-reality in most situations."

"How would I do that?" I asked.

"Well, you turned out alright didn't you? And growing up in our house was not always a picnic, I remember...share some of the craziness and how your parents solved it!"

"Ok!" I answered, excited. "This will be grand!"

I raised my hand. Before I knew what had happened, Miss Frank was talking for me.

"I would just like to say, there were times in my home growing up that were absolute craziness. There was tons of contention." Imagine now the looks of horror on the Relief Society Presidency's faces. "I remember me and Bri used to tie Traci up in chairs." Now hear the entire room errupt in whispers, a few titters, and a loud half-whisper from the front saying 'Poor Traci!' At this comment I began to realize that perhaps Miss Frank was being just a little too frank. "So my dad came up with a wonderful punishment," I continued, smiling, "every time we thought a negative thought about somebody, or said something hurtful, we then had to come up with 10 wonderful compliments to say to that person." This is where I should have stopped, instead of revealing more of my inner home madness. "Then, we had to kiss their feet." The entire room explodes into laughter.

This is when Miss Frank loses her control over my person and the shy Maiden who usually takes over during Relief Society hours resumes her throne. She is, of course, horrified at Miss Franks behavior and freezes with absolute embarassment, turning me red to the hairline.

Luckily the speaker saved me and quickly adressed another person, changing the subject.

Is there any hope for muffling this mortifying woman inside me?

A Glimpse

This entry is pretty much for Bri-nana. You commented about some lines of a poem that I put as my status the other day, so I thought I'd post the whole thing for you to read. I'll warn you now though, it's not going to make you happy. Don't read this if you're already sad. In fact, to cheer you up after I'm also going to include a song that I wrote in High School, that I don't think I ever sang to you. Obviously I can't sing it to you now, but maybe I will when you get home. It's very touching though. I had forgotten about it and ran into it while I was reading old poems...it made me and mama cry-but in a good way :) So to start I'll post an old note that you appreciated, which seems rather appropriate for this entry ;)
*Sorry, it wont let me edit properly-so the verses run together :(

Glimpse

Writing to you seems like a dream.

Conversing with one who makes no response,

But gives as much back as I give.

A log of life, of time, of memory.

A dream of a memory of a dream.

The cycle of my dreamer's state.

Pages that mean life, love, despair and hope,

Stories of jokes of emotions,

A record that reaches my spirit.

A thrum by the drum that's the beat of my heart.

Keep my treasure and from it never part,

For in this you glimpse my soul.

Now for the sad one, whose happier lines you read. Take a deep breath. Ready? Ok. Start.

LOSS

I had rather see your smile,

Than a thousand flowers dancing in the sun.

But my sun is gone now,

And the flowers shrivel, their dancing done.

I had rather hear your voice

Than the chimes of a thousand church bells.

But my bells are silent,

And the silence feels to me as death knells.

I had rather smell your scent

Than a thousand sweet perfumes.

But my incense dwindles,

And your scent is absent in these hollow rooms.

I had rather taste your kindness

Than the comfort of a thousand kindred.

But my kindred cry for me,

And by their empty words I am not fed.

I had rather feel your laughter

Than a thousand warming rays of light.

But my light is darkened

And the hard of the cold is as dark as the night.

I had rather know your spirit,

Than the wisdom of a thousand worlds.

But my world gives no wisdom

And the broken mind on agony curls.

I had rather have your heart

Than a thousand lives to live alone.

But I am alone now,

With nothing but old forgotten tomes.

Ok. Right. Depressing. I know. I'm sorry. I guess I was feeling very lonely, and maybe slightly empathetic toward a character I was writing. But now I'll try to add some sweet to the bitter with the old song :)

Lullaby From Heaven

Sleep now my baby,

For death holds no fear.

All shall be well in the end.

When slandered and broken

All trials you've been through

Atonement the Savior will lend.

The days will go quickly,

The years fly right by

...And my arms fail to hold you for a while.

But if faithful you hold out, forever endure,

Then ne'er shall they fail any more!

Peace now my child,

Still fear not decease.

Reunion will not be so far.

If patient, enduring and humble you stay,

Remain ever more as you are...

Then days will go quickly,

And years fly right by

...While my arms fail to hold you for a time...

Be still, Oh my child, push through til the end

And ne'er shall they fail any more!

Rest now, my darling,

With joy in your heart,

For we'll be together again.

Through trials that seem endless,

Keep whispering still,

My lullaby in your head.

So that days may go quickly,

And years fly right by,

Though my arms fail to hold you during life.

But serve Christ, our Savior,

Be strong and Be true!

And my arms ne'er shall fail any more!

Come now, my baby,

Run into my arms,

And know that you've ne'er been alone.

You've passed through all trials,

How much you've endured!

Now joy celestial is yours!

The days have gone quickly,

The years flew right by,

And now I can hold you once again.

So strong, and so faithful,

You were til the end!

Now we'll be together forever more!

See-that's a happy thought right? I think I meant it to be our Heavenly Mother singing to us... or perhaps a mother who died before she could raise her children here. Either way, I guess its a meloncholy sort of happiness.

Well, that's all for now. Just wanted to share those thoughts-they've been swirling around like bees stuck in my head for days. Maybe this will give them away to escape :)

I love you nana!

Welcoming in the Hollow Season

I keep getting in trouble for wanting to skip the entire space between Summer and Christmas.

Can you blame me for wanting to jump into the holidays so quickly? I mean, that would mean we wouldn't have to deal with this whole school thing (not that I do anyways), we'd all be together again and we'd get to eat yummy goodies all the time! What's so wrong with that? Plus-there's no music on earth to compare with Christmas music. Seriously. What else makes you feel that happy?

Anywho, I thought to put your minds at ease I would prove that I do actually enjoy the inbetween holidays, and honor them in my own special way. Starting with the one that's coming up in just a little while.

Vicious Villians and Gruesome Ghouls,

Creatures of Myth and Royal Fools,

Children who prance with grubby fat hands,

Be ye warned my friends: Halloween is at Hand!

That was just a fun introduction I made up for you. The real tribute is something I wrote around this time in 2006.

HOLLOW

A glaring face of firelight,

On every doorstep sits.

While children run around all night,

Where have they left their wits?

Insanity of every kind

In hidden eyes doth lurk.

In looking behind masks you'll find

Every person has their quirk,

Which to them this night doth bind,

From it, they cannot shirk.

The devils trickery is this

A 'respite' from the ever good.

Mis-takes are the devils kiss,

For it's with these he ever could

Seduce men into eternal night.

But men follow? Never they would,

If they were strong and longed for light.

image from SheridanInternational

Ok. So I lied. As evidenced, I hate halloween and everything it represents.

But on a more positive note, there is something that comes from dressing up and acting a different character from yourself. A sense of security that can help you to discover things you have been bottling up. Thus acting is such a wonderful thing. And writing, for that matter.

So I don't have a problem with the activites of the holiday so much as the ideas and intentions behind them. All Hallow's Eve was never meant to be a frightening experience or a game. I think turning the sacred holiday for the dead into a mockery of them is something commercialism will have to pay for in the end. I do not really honor this false Halloween and I do not appreciate the joke on the deceased. It's cruel and disgusting in my opinion.

This does not mean that I will not be handing out candy to the little children who come begging at my door or lecturing party-goers about their disrespect for the dead. No, I am not a crone. I will celebrate the holidays as I always do, with some concession to a costume, a trip to the church celebration and an indulgent smile as I fill the neighborhood's pillowcases with junk to rot their teeth. But do I enjoy it? No sir, I do not. Except perhaps, ironically, the pumpkin carving. That's good fun. But Honestly, I would rather skip the whole affair.

Thanksgiving is a much more joyful holiday and I do very much enjoy it. It's just that it comes so close to Christmas that I consider it the pre-feast. The welcoming of the true holiday season. The cutting of the ribbon, if you will. I love starting the Season off with that bang of telling my Savior and my family why I am so grateful for them. This holiday inspires much more uplifting poems, such as this:

TWO ROWS OF ROSES

Two rows of fragrant roses

Lead to an always open door.

Sweet-scented, they invite me

To join their midst's and forever soar.

Two rows of colored roses

Show me home by their splendid blooms.

Bright patterns to allure me

Back to home's happy, peace filled rooms.

Two rows of silk-spun roses

Feel like a lane to hallowed walls,

Where all may enter safely

To be loved in her heavenly halls.

Two rows of laughing roses

Softly entice me to their song.

They call to those who listen

Pleading with them to sing along.

Two rows of sugared roses

Sweetly guide me to the inside

Of my haven in the forest,

Where my happiest mem'ries abide.

image from: ecards.alege.net

So while it's a hate-love relationship, I will make it through these months and I will honor the holidays in their midsts. But if you think I'm going to do it without singing 'I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas,' all along the ride, you're as crazy as those jack-o-lanterns. BWAHAHAHAHA

Farewell to Summer

This was inspired by our end-of-summer family beach trip on labor day. It says more than I could say with stories and memories, so I'll let it speak for me. Read it as a whisper and think of it as the dying summer speaking.

THE OCEAN'S PROMISE

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh...

I'll tell you the secret

Between the Ocean and me

While her waves pull us softly Out to Sea

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssshhhhhhhhhhh...

It's crucial you're silent

If you want to know why

There's no other place I'd have chosen to die

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssshhhhhhhhh...

There's no sound beneath it

And therein lies the key

To understanding the promise 'tween the Ocean and we

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssshhhhhhh...

If you're quiet you'll hear it

The Lady Moon's cry

Whose silver lips tell me never a lie

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssshhhhhhhh...

And you'll understand freedom

That comes without fee

The right to exist, the right simply to be

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssssssshhhhhhhh...

For now comes your answer

Have you figured out why

The Sea is the place I come to take my last sigh?

Pictures from: hickerphotos

The Psychospirituality of Dreams

Ocean of Dreams by Josephine Wall
http://www.easy-dream-interpretation.com/

In my Senior year of High School I wrote a song. Now people close to me will exclaim that this is hardly a statement, since I play around with writing music all the time.

This song was a little different however. It is a lullaby to be precise, but not in the usual sense of the word. It sort of turned out more like a haunted melody along the lines of an LOTR song or a gypsy ballad. I called it a lullaby merely because I meant it to be sung at night, and because it was mainly about dreams and the unexpected yet revealing things that happen in the night. My father asked me to sing it at a ward talent show next week, and so I have been dwelling on it for the past little while. Now, I can't write out the melody for you to hear here, but I think I will jot down the lyrics, so you can get an idea of what I am talking about.

Dreams

The shores of the moonlight glow soft in the night,

Hiding her wonders just out of your sight.

For who looks in shadows for dreams to begin?

And who knows the night, with all of her whims?

In dreams live the secrets that have yet to be told.

Stories of valor that never grow old.

Memories that time has diluted and dimmed

Become nothing more than their silver rims.

When shadows are banished by breaking of light,

The dreams of the waking are taken in flight.

And few will remember what visions they've seen

They know only shadows that come with the Eve'n.

Of course, in singing it so often and getting it ready for presentation, I have thought to wonder what caused me to write such a song in the first place.

I have always been fascinated by dreams and waht they can tell us about our inner psyche and mortal experience. I don't believe our night visions were meant just as an escape from our worldly struggles or even as simple manifestations of our inner troubles and struggles-though certainly many of them are. I believe sleep to be one of the times we are most in tune with our spirits and our eternal connections. I believe dreams are a way of connecting to ourselves and revealing our deepest destinies, most inspiring stories, our prevailing fears and most troubling detections that we have yet to bring to the forefront of our minds. I do believe that one can see the future in a dream. I have experienced deja vu multiple times throughout my life, though usually I can connect it exactly, not to a past experience, but to a dream. I think dreams can show us those who will be most important in our lives before we know them enough to love them. I believe dreaming is an unproclaimed miracle. One I am most grateful for.

But almost all seriousness aside, dreams can also tell us some pretty disturbing things about ourselves and make us recognize that which we have been denying. I recently started keeping a Dream Diary on advice from a friend who had begun translating my dreams into very believable meanings for me. All in good fun, this experiment was meant to show me what recurring themes were appearing in my subcranium and get me to confront them and work out my anxiety issues. I noticed over time that what it was also doing, was forcing me to acknowledge the recurring variables and as I did so they became more solidified and unchangeable in my dreaming. Is this a good thing however, or is it taking something that's not meant to be taken so seriously to extremes?

Everything Starts With A Wish

"Fall-der-all and Fiddle-ee-dee, Fiddly, Faddelly, Foodle. All the dreamers in the world are dizzy in the noodle!...well I was just wishing, but I suppose that's not any good either....hmmm-Everything starts with a wish" ~Roger's and Hammerstein's Cinderella

I don't think I've ever really understood that song before. What on earth is the difference between a dream and a wish? I used to think. Aren't they essentially the same thing? After all, the cartoon Disney version of Cinderella says, "A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep..." But I suppose I've demonstrated already that we should not depend upon Disney movies as the source of all wisdom. Rogers and Hammerstein however, are like the ultimate creators of deep thought in theatre production. Ok, not really, but I really, really appreciate their insights. This one hit me today as particularly clever, and true.

I am a dreamer. A very bad one. I am often accused of leaving parts of myself in the dream world and forgetting to bring myself back to reality. I dream of being a successful writer and touring the country, no: the world! I dream of discovering hitherto undetected lands full of ancient artifacts and knowledge that will bring hundreds to the realization of truth. I dream of love and a warm, fuzzy, happily-ever-after with a companion who will never abandon me. I dream of peace and even saving all those little starving children in Africa and China. But do you know what? Not a single one of these dreams does me a lick of good. Sure, some of them have good purposes and intentions behind them, and none of them are truly bad things to dream about. Most of them are pretty good long term goals. But what does dwelling on them day after day and dreaming about what I could do or become tomorrow, do for today? Where does it get me? I'll tell you where. Sitting on my bed wondering why my arms are empty and being caught staring into space with a vacant expression during important conversations and having to rehear everything I missed because I was in lala land for the last fifteen minutes. Not particularly endearing to the speaker. No ma'am.

But a wish. A wish is grantable. Wishes are made one at a time, out of pure intention. If you are willing to get off your duff and believe in yourself and your wish, you yourself can make it come true. "I dream about marrying the prince," is very different from, "I wish to go to the ball so I can meet the prince and fall in love."

Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm not sure I'm being very clear. The thing is, dreams are passive. They are vague inclinations of what you think your future might be like, but probably feel it never will be. A wish is a clear and solid demand on reality of what you would like it to become. Wishes establish active intention, they're agressive!

So right here, right now, I'm going to establish some good solid wishes.

#1: I wish for a job. *I will now do the Cinderella-like thing and hunt one down with confidence

#2: I wish I could finish writing a book. *Now I shall work until the Eye is complete.

#3: I wish I could go on a mission. *I can start to prepare now and take the proper classes. I can save up everything I can and then ask for help with the rest. I will let others help me.

#4: I wish I were healthier. *And what kind of Cinderella doesn't clean up well? I'll cut out the crap and start running again. I can conquer asthma! I can conquer aching muscles! I can conquer my stubborn anti-will! Raar!

#5: I wish I were happy. *And what's stopping me? Happiness is a decision right? So you know what, from now on, I'm going to be happy! Try and stop me! I'm going to love my life for what it is and enjoy the ride. I'm going to stop criticizing myself and everyone around me and just love them. I'm going to stop worrying about the things I can't fix and happily solve the things I can. I'm going to walk on the sunny side and ignore the doom and gloom. As the good Lord instructs us, I am going to rejoice!

Love At First Flight

The other night around a cozy campfire in a good friends backyard I found myself sitting next to a very charming and attractive young man whom I had never before met. His conversation was enchanting, his stories thrilling, his laughter infectious, and his manner attentive. For several hours I was caught up in his spell and when it finally came time for our departure I was sad to see him go, for he lives pretty far away and I was not sure when I might see him again.

We went our separate ways and as I walked to the car with my younger sister she piped up with a comment along these lines: "Thank goodness, I wanted to leave hours ago but I wasn't about to interupt your flirting."

Shock crossed my face. My what?! "I...I wasn't flirting..." I spluttered, "He was just a very interesting guy and had fantastic stories about his mission that I was greatly interested in, thankyou." I harrumphed my embarrassed self into the drivers seat.

"Whatever." Said she, "you "may not" have been, but he most certainly was. He ignored everyone else who tried to jump into the conversation!"

"That doesn't mean anything..." I replied. It was silent for a few moments. "But he was pretty cute." I winked at her and we both bust up laughing.

Later that night as I dithered and dissected the evening in my head, I had to admit to myself that I had indeed been flirting with the entertaining young gentleman. What does that mean? I thought. I've cut myself off from dating and flirting and all of that. I am preparing for a mission! I don't have time for any of it and I'd only be setting myself and others up for disappointment at this point. No, it's no good. I'll just have to avoid him, or not be as friendly if I see him again, or something...

However, it occured to me later that this reaction is not strictly a result of my preparing for a mission. In fact, it's a bit of a trend I've noticed in my behavior that is slightly horrifying. This trend is that as soon as I discern that I have any attraction for a young, datable man who may be interested in me, I panic. I think of ten thousand reasons why it will never work, why it should never work and why it could never work. Then I pound them out into my behavior and attitudes until it becomes reality and I have chased the boy away. Or at least distanced myself enough to make him believe that I do not have any interest. The problem: I do still like them. Then I harbor these secret crushes as little stunted seedlings of something that could have grown but never did because I poisoned them. See exhibit A:



That's all. This story has no ending because I still have not solved this problem. It's a dillema.

Summer Fun

Just some pictures :) They speak for themselves really, all I have to say is what is better than sand castles and hammocks? Nothing! Yay Summer! *sorry about the sideways ones...dunno why it wont let me fix them :(

Surrendering Stories

This is a white flag. I am retreating behind it and I will say this once and only once, and strictly in writing. You will understand when you are finished, why I do not often talk about these experiences. These are my comedic, horrific and even somewhat sadly tragic experiences dating (or undating, as I call many of these relationships) at Brigham Young University Idaho.

*For the sake of the privacy of those persons involved in these stories names will be changed to epithets, so given at the top of their own particular tales.

The Eager Beaver

It is my very first day of school. I am far away from home, and my closest friend is a roommate who had arrived on the same night as me, with whom I had had a bonding evening with when we were forced to eat ramen (from cup-of-noodle styrofoam containers, we had no dishes, little food, and NO kitchen-only a small microwave) with pens. I am desperate to gain more companions.
I walk into the classroom quietly, as is my usual habit, in hopes of finding a seat near the front or next to a wall. I look up to find it full of students staring balefully at me. I am late. I look around for the teacher but can find one nowhere. Finally a tall blonde man who looks younger than a few of the students says, "Welcome to English 111, have a seat." Horrified at the immediate attention of the entire class gazing at me as though I were a specimen to disect, or perhaps the next subject of a despised research paper, I search desperately for an empty chair, a friendly smile, Anything.
"Here, come sit next to me." A kindly pair of large blue eyes meet mine with a grin. He pats the empty seat next to him. It is next to a wall. I am wonderfully grateful to this handsome young man with the captivating blue eyes.

...Three Weeks Later...

"Alright, everone take your partners and off you go. You must stay on campus and we will meet back here at twenty after the hour." The Professor dismisses us to find flaws in the structures of the school, about which we will write a persuasive essay. "You'll be my partner right?" says the Eager Beaver, who has already earned the nickname from his constant habit of beginning to flirt with me every moment the professor stops speaking. Not to mention the fact the inadvertently shows up wherever I go, to do the same thing. Already he has found me at the Sunday Night Stadium Singings, a few dances, the grocery store, the library and several times just walking around on campus.
"Sure." I don't mind so very much, I'm kind of flattered with the attention. He's twenty three, an RM, and interested in me, an unglorious little eighteen year old fresh from High School. I sense danger as he leads me towards the gardens (given the title 'Make Out Gardens' or 'The Honey Moon Spot' by BYUI students, about which I had been THOROUGHLY warned) and head him off.
"Actually I think I know the perfect thing, its up near the dorms." I say quickly heading the opposite direction from the gardens. He is slightly crestfallen but follows where I lead.
"So, are you dating anyone yet?" he asks casually. That was direct, I think, but hey what do I know about people in Idaho-or college for that matter? Maybe all conversations here are direct.
"Um, no actually. So the place I'm thinking of, it's a basketball court-"
"Really? Pretty thing like you, I was sure you'd be taken by now." His smile is very charming.
"Haha..ha...thankyou...I just, um..."
He senses my awkwardess. "So you're from Washington, right? How do you like it up there?"
"Oh, Oh I love it," I'm just grateful we are talking about something else, "I love the rain and the tree's and the mountains. I hadn't realized it til I'd been here baking in a desert valley for a while though."
He laughs. "Oh Yeah. I'm from Oregon, I understand." Uh oh. "Probably right close to you actually, do you live near the bottom of Washington or the top?"
"Right on the border actually."
"No way! Near Portland?"
"Directly accross from it. Vancouver."
"Nice! Only about an hour away from me then."
"Oh,... that's cool...anyways I was thinking we could write the paper about these enormous cracks--" We really have only a few moments to get all the way accross campus and back, we should be concentrating on our assignment.
"Do you want to live there after you marry?"
"-and people are always getting their feet caught in them...Oh, uh, I guess...I hadn't really thought about it much actually..."
"I do. I want to take my beautiful wife and give her a home surrounded by tree's in the mountains. Not too close to any town though, I like my privacy."
"Hmmm...that's great, it sounds like a good place to raise a family. Really though, I can see the court from here, do you want to see the-"
"How many children do you want to have?" Woah! Ok buddy, this just got WAY too personal.
"Uh, I guess I haven't really thought much about that either..."
"I want a bunch, six or seven at the least. Preferably more like eleven or twelve."
"Uh huh..."
"As many boys as possible. Do you think you'd like raising sons?"
What the HECK?!
"I, uh, I don't know, maybe someday...I'm going to write down some information about the cracks now ok? You can take notes too if you like."
There is a blissful three minute silence, in which I scribble down descriptions of the cracks in the basketball court like mad. He watches me with admiration.
"You're a good student aren't you?" He asks with proud eyes.
"Well, I sure like to think so...we'd better be getting back, we're nearly out of time."
"Oh ya, ya you're right, we're gonna have to run actually." Looking at his watch.
We take off in a light jog and arrive as the last of the students are coming back in from their explorations.

...Fifteen Minutes Later...

The teacher dismisses us and immediately the Eager Beaver is upon me, raving about my ability to write a killer essay with almost no editorial assistance. Is this a subtle hint that I'll be working mostly alone for this paper? Or maybe a not so subtle hint. Hmmm.
Before I know it we've reached the steps in front of the Smith building. He swings out in front of me and turns to face me while I'm still on the steps so our faces are on the same level (He's about 6'2").
"So, Kristi, I'd really really like to take you out on a date sometime."
"Oh, ok. That'd be fun." I try to smile very nicely. Everyone deserves at least one-that's what I've always been told.
He gives me a big smile and walks away. Just walks away. Not a single detail of when, where, or how he would like to do this. Ok, I guess we'll just work it out later. I head back to my dorm, where my roommates celebrate my acheivement of first apartment date of the semester with cheers and a nighttime trip to taco bell (a tradition in that dorm), which I promptly threw up. I really should have recognized it for a sign...

...Temporary Conclusion...

Never again does the Eager Beaver mention that date. For the rest of that week he looks at me expectantly whenever I enter, as though I am supposed to say something. I don't understand. Was he implying that he would like me to plan a date?
The next week he is somewhat quieter as though frustrated with me for not doing something about the whole situation already. His silences are pointed and he stares at me a lot.
The next week he is nearly silent and I can practically feel him simmering next to me.
The next week, he moves seats. He does everything in his power for the rest of the semester to avoid sitting next to me. I can feel him always, in that overly heated English room, glaring at me from the corner of his eyes, looking away whenever I happen to glance in his direction. Finally the semester ends and in the joy of the Christmas holidays, I forget about the handsome but strange blue eyed boy.

...Hopefully Real Conclusion...

It is my third semester. My roommates are my best friends and I just love them to death.
Normally church is an apartment affair and we go in a big happy group. Today however, I have been asked to come a bit early for an interview of some sort. I approach the door with my head down, thinking about what is to come, and then it opens before me.
I look up to thank the young man holding the door open for me. The Eager Beaver glares at me stonily, his icy gaze challenging me to acknowledge him. I give a small nod, put my head back down and practically run to my appointment.

-A Matter of Weeks Later-

I have had three separate occasions of door-holding incidents matching the first. Really, this is getting ridiculous. Two of my roommates and I are leaving, church has ended and I really just want to get home and get some food into my empty system.
Eager Beaver holds the door open for the lot of us as we exit, staring directly at me. I've had enough. I meet his gaze and hold it. His face changes, softening, and he looks distinctly regretful.
"Hello Kristi." He says it a bit mournfully.
I'm sure I looked at him like he was crazy.
"Hello," I mutter as I walk past.
My roommates wait til the car door has closed behind me to ambush me.
"Who the HECK was that?!"
"Oh that was, well, just a guy I sort of-almost-kind of dated my first semester..." Really, I have no idea how else to explain him.
"Well why in the world aren't you dating him NOW?! He's gorgeous!"
"Um, actually, you know...I have no idea." I turn to look out the car window, dimissing the subject.

Get-Some Boy

Ok, before you start panicking-obviously nothing bad ever happened between me and this boy. I'm still happily VL, thankyou. This nickname, in fact, came from my roommates. They bestowed the title on the boy when he made a habit of locating me whenever we went to the cafeteria (still in my first semester, when I didn't have a kitchen and was forced to go to the cafeteria for nearly every meal) and making absurdly flirtatious and often strange comments, following me around as I gathered my meal from the salad bars. Then inviting me to sit with him or following me to sit among my flock of dorm friends and roommates. These dorm friends and roommates made a bit of a fashion of saying 'Get Some!' whenever anyone we knew was even talking to a member of the opposite sex, often loudly, racously and obnoxiously. Embarrassing the target caught convorting to horrifying degree's. Because they had to say it about him at least once a day however, he earned the title as his own specific epithet within a matter of weeks.
The sad part of this story is that I was simply not interested in him. He was cute, and sweet, a band geek to the core, but just not my type. Ok fine, I will admit it. I could talk circles around him, knew he didn't understand a word and yet he bobbed his head like some kind of cockatu and it drove me crazy.
I told my roommates that I did not want to date him, and to prevent him asking if they could sense it was about to happen, please. They succeeded wildly. Yes, I mean wildly. The poor kid was cut off in the middle of sentences, headed off at corners, goaded into arguments and interrupted with countless 'emergencies'.
Poor guy, he never stood a chance. This is when I first learned that using the roommates as backup was a last-resort, emergency sort of action. Not a reflex or precaution.

The Cafeteria god

I think as freshman we all manage to find some sort of BMOC and crush on him desperately for at least our first few weeks (months in my case). Mine was a boy (or man, whatever) who sat accross from me in the cafeteria, every day that first semester. I know, it's truly terrible that with the Eager Beaver expressing interest at every turn, and Get-Some boy sitting there by my side, I had eyes only for the Cafeteria god.
You who know me well know of my sad obsession with mythology and fairy tales, and my particular attraction to the beautiful roman gods. This is exactly what the boy encapsulated for me. Tall, with gold skin, black curly hair and exquisite brown eyes, he was perfection. I was lost. Taken in by the face of a man I had never even spoken to.

And never would. Because the world is a cruel place, I was born a shy creature. Not a shy spirit, as most my friends will loudly protest, but one of those people who is shy of those they have not met before, particularly if I like them. Therefore, I never worked up the courage to actually go and talk to the boy.
We had one of those eye affairs. Do not laugh at me and roll your eyes. I know you know what I'm talking about. I know you've done it too. Staring at each other across the room, like lovers trapped on either side of the looking glass. Catching each others eyes and looking away in embarassment, then looking back to see if the other is still looking at you. Communicating with your eyes an enchantment you cannot yet put into words.
But as all not-quite-good things, it came to an end. That winter I moved into an apartment, and had no need of going back to the expensive cafeteria at all. I never saw the Cafeteria god again.

The Ex-Roommate's Crush

That first semester, my roommate had a crush. A boy we invited to hang out with us all the time, he joined us for apartment dinners and nights out, homework parties, the works. But we all knew, he was hers. And frankly, none of us were particularly interested anyways.
The next semester, all of my dorm roommates left. The were summer-fall track, and I was fall-winter. I was alone again, and I HATED it. My new roommates were nice, and I thought in time we would become friends, but I wished I had some connection to the past and my loud, hilarious, energetic roommates from before. These new ones were just so quiet.
Then one day I walked into history class and there he was, my old roommate's crush. I plopped myself down beside him with a smile and we picked up the teasing friendship we'd all shared before. I didn't foresee a problem with the fact that it was just the two of us now, we'd been a part of the same silly group and I was sure our friendship could continue just the way it had last semester.
Then one day it came up as we were discussing our own histories in history class, rather than the history of America as we should have been. The 'hypothetical situation' was his method of attack.
"Say you were to date a black guy," he began smoothly, "it could even be, uh (he looks around as though trying to find another black man-not likely, there were maybe about 10 in the University total)... me. What would you think of that? Would your parents be alright with it?"
"Oh, my parents would be fine with anyone if I was in love with them," I watched his eyes twinkle, "but that wouldn't be your problem anyways. Your road blocker would be the fact that my old roommate was-and may still be-in love with you." I felt fine saying it, the fact had been openly known to him and our entire group first semester.
"Oh? Why on earth should that be a problem?" He really looks confused.
"It would be breaking a sacred bond of trust! Sisters, girlfriends, roommates, we don't take off with each other's men...it's like, against the laws of feminism!" I quoted Mean Girls to him, joking around sarcastically the way we always did.
He didn't laugh. "She's not here though. It's not like she can do anything to you. Why shouldn't you be able to date whoever you want?"
I began to sense that he was a little more serious about this than I had suspected. "Er...just because she's not here doesn't mean she wouldn't know. I know it's like a foreign concept to you but girls actually stay in touch, you know?"
"So just don't tell her."
"That's not how it works. Even if I didn't somebody would, and then I'd be in even bigger trouble."
"Why should you have to tell anybody? Aren't they all gone anyways?"
Oh gosh. Now I am in a pickle. He is serious about this. And persistent. What do I do?! I don't want to offend one of the only friends here I have right now!
"It's just against my own personal morals ok?"
Class began and for that day I was safe. For the next few weeks he spent the free time we had in class trying to convince me that it was no sin or betrayal if I wanted to date him. I could never quite figure out how to tell him that I really just didn't.
Finally, it was coming up on Valentine's Day...and the Sweethearts Ball. I had a very serious crush on the Dreamy Premi by now (described below) and thought that if I let it slip that I might be going to the dance with him, my ex-roommate's crush would avoid the subject altogether.
Yeah, like I should be blessed with such luck.
It was a few days before the ball when he broached the subject again.
"So has your friend from your class that you like asked you to the dance yet?"
"Oh, oh no actually...he doesn't, um, date."
"Oh really? I'm sorry. Well, since you don't have a date, maybe you'd like to go with me? Just as friends, like..." the last part was added at my look of exasperation.
I was trapped. There was officially no way I could get out of this without offending him, and so I agreed.
I must now confess to using one of the most hideous, awful, and manipulative tricks a girl knows to avoid a date. It takes a little truth, a little heartache, some tears and a LOT of exaggeration. Hilariously enough, it happened in the gardens.
"I need to talk to you...about the dance." I began slowly, having already evinced a horrible mood and depression all through class. I can hear him stop breathing.
"It's just I don't have a dress, I'm completely broke...I, I just..." This is where I start to cry a little bit and stop walking as though extremely agitated. He stops and looks at me concernedly.
"Kristi, what's really wrong?" He asks in that deep philosophical voice they use when they are being the 'man', you know the one. When they are trying to take care of you, acting like they understand the inner workings of your psyche, like they are the only one in the universe that can possibly delve deep enough to find what is truly wrong with you. Because as we all know, a woman will never just say the truth and tell you what's hurting her, it's something you have to work at.
"At home," my voice breaks, "there's just problems in my family and my best friend is in a lot of pain and I just feel...(sob) like...(sob) I ...should be...(sob with wail) hooome."
Now I've scared him. A tear or two most guys can handle, but break down in full-blown sobs with gushing tears and you will induce a panic like no other.
"I just don't think...I don't feel it's right...I wouldn't be able to enjoy a dance at all right now...I can barely handle being a group of people at all." I cry silently and wait for his answer.
"Oh, it's ok Kristi...I understand if you don't wanna be around a ton of people. Hey, maybe I can get us a pizza and we can watch a movie at one of our apartments or something."
Opps. I guess I did kind of open myself up for that one. I'm going to have to hurt him a little bit. He leaves me no other choice.
"Actually I think...I think I just need to be alone for a while...I'm sorry."
The head droops, the eyes avoid mine, the voice even quavers a little bit as he says, "Oh, I guess thats...thats fine...I'll see you next week then..."
I don't see him next week. As a matter of fact, he quit coming to class altogether. He didn't answer my calls or texts and the one time I ran into him on campus he said, "Oh ya, hey I dropped that class..." and hurried off with some excuse.
Seriously? Seriously! What is it about me that sends guys cowering for the hills?! I can't even manage to keep a guy as a friend for more than a few months. Sheesh.

The History Hangover

This poor sap was in that same history class in which my ex-roommate's crush had held the infamous debate's about the conditions of dating. This guy had constantly jumped in the middle of them and been the crush's life line.
After the crush was gone however, it seems I became fair game.
"So, you and --crush-- aren't going out or anything now are ya? I assume he woulda stayed in the class if you were...?"
"Um, no, no we're definitely not." I try not to talk to this guy too often and usually sit in between the two other girls that are in our group. They are sadly absent this day. Don't be too harsh in judging me please, after all he had helped to destroy what friendship with the crush I had tried to maintain. And to be frank, he looked a little like golem from LOTR and scared the living crap out of me. Even had the voice down pat.
"So are you free?"
"Um, well I mean I guess but I'm really trying to focus on my schoolwork righ-"
He cuts me off. "Cuz I'd love-"
Now I cut him off. "NOW so I don't actually want to date anyone."
"Ah. Huh."
He is not deterred. He spent most of the rest of the semester in that class trying to convince me to date him. I could be as rude as you like, ignore him completely, and he would somehow see it as a sign of encouragement. I assume it ended only because I never saw him again after that semester. I don't particularly mind actually. Sorry.

The Dreamy Premi

For those of you who have read my story, this is the inspiration for Pierre. The golden skin with happy freckles, curling honey hair and deep green-gold eyes that can hold you in a spell forever. Yeah, not kidding. I was head-over-heels before I'd even spoken to him.
We were in a humanities class together, and of all the beautiful girls he could have chosen to sit next to in that class (trust me, all of them were noticing him) he came and sat next to me. You probably could have actually heard me sigh. Kind of pathetic really, but I couldn't help myself.
I introduced myself and we hit it off immediately. It was usually hard to concentrate in that class because we talked straight through it. However, since we had the highest grades in it and always knew the answers ahead of time (product of trying to impress each other or get everything done ahead of time in anticipation of not being able to do anything when we were together? I'm not sure) the professor really just ignored it. The Dreamy Premi had the most tantalizing habit of putting his head so close to my ear when he wanted to whisper a comment or answer to me that I could feel the heat of his breath all the way down my collar. Then I'd turn my head to whisper or look at him in response and he wouldnt move his and I'd be staring right into those never ending green eyes and I'd completely forget what I was thinking. It drove me CRAZY. He'd always move my hair, be brushing my arm or inadvertently leaning his knee against mine. In short, this boy knew how to tease.
And for all of that you would think, Player. But no, not him. He had to have the perfect personality too. Extremely sweet, especially to the mentally challenged girl who sat with us, and completely focused, he never spoke to a soul other than myself and that girl the whole semester. I held the highest grade for the class but he kept a percent or two behind me the whole way. He was smart. He knew how to study. I could talk to him for hours and never get bored.
I was falling fast, I knew I had to find a flaw or I'd be a goner. I could find none. The guy was perfect. Absolutely gloriously perfect.
And then one day we were discussing relationships and I asked if he was dating anyone now and he said, "No," my heart flew through the roof, "I don't want to date anyone until I get back from my mission, it would just be too much heartbreak to leave someone behind."
Crack. Shatter. Splint. Speaking of heart break.

The "Comforter"

Of all the guys I dated at BYUI, this is the one I hold the fondest memories of. Not because I was attatched to him, or even had any sort of crush on him really, but because of what he did for me. This is still my second semester and I was horribly lonely because now I had lost my friend in the ex-roommate's crush and was depressed that I seemed to chase all my guy friends away.
As much as it is talked about in sunday school lessons, sacrament meeting talks and every other kind of spiritual lesson we are given throughout our lives, it is surprising how few people have the courage to try to comfort someone who is visibly upset or depressed. Or even notice them actually.

This guy was one of those outstanding people who did though. He started talking to me and tried to cheer me up at ward functions, then began accompanying me to stadium singing (hundreds of students from BYUI go to the football stadium on sunday evenings and sing hymns together for half an hour) then going on walks, then out to meals and game nights with other couples. He was a fantastic friend and introduced me to many very interesting people.
Then one day I got a horrible phone call from my best friend at home. She told me that the boy that had been her date when we doubled at prom senior year had committed suicide. I took it pretty hard. I haven't ever known someone my age who purposely disposed of themselves, or someone in their right mind. I was sure there was no hope for him and I was horrible depressed. The comforter saw me on campus a few hours after this phone call and he sat with me and let me cry for awhile, then taught me everything he knew about life after death and the promise of eternal families in helping people and the condition of those who take their own lives. He was an immense help and I felt so much better after that talk. I will be forever grateful to him.
We stayed friends for the rest of the semester but lost contact afterwards. I ran into him my last semester and he told me was engaged to get married a week after the semester ended. I was very happy for him, I hope she is as wonderful a girl as he deserves.

The Haunter

Alright, here it is. The story you've all been waiting for. THIS is the true end to my dating random gentlemen. THIS is the experience that scared me beyond all experiences and made me determined to avoid dating until I was safe and could leave on my mission.
I met the Haunter in my third semester, after a long summer break of planning my sister's wedding, in Mandarin Chinese class. We were both partnerless coming in (turns out most people like to take Chinese with a friend or roommate-go figure) and so got paired up together automatically. Other than the fact that he had a drastically receding hairline, wore belts with studs on them with sweatshirts that favored skulls, and didn't seem to be able to stop smiling, he seemed reasonably normal to me. I should have known better than to think that I would ever be paired up with a relatively normal person.
We held our practice sessions in the library in a little alcove where we could hear each other. Thinking about it now, I guess I can see why he thought this was romantic. But it never occured to me then. It didn't even occur to me that he was interested actually. Even when he asked me out after our third practice session (after walking me home as he usually did) it simply did not enter into my oblivious mind. The last time I'd dated someone was the comforter after all, and we'd ended up just being friends. We never really even had any intense moments...(ok there was one, when he was trying to cuddle with me while watching a movie in his apartment and kept putting his arm around me and playing with my hair-but his plan was foiled by the fact that the movie- Legend - made me laugh hysterically instead of making me scared and so every time I laughed I could scoot away from him) and so I wasn't really on the 'find-a-mate' sort of mind track.
For our first date (can I just add that I had to drive because I had a car and he did not...gentlemen, this is just not attractive to a girl who does not already know you and like you. If you are trying to impress a girl and you don't have a car, try going somewhere close and WALKING-then if we are cold you can give us a jacket, wrap arms around us etc, we think that you are more physically active, we have a long time just to talk and it really just adds to the whole experience of the date. Honestly.) he decided that we were going to the Haunted Shack which is actually a pretty awesome haunted house out in the country near Rexburg. It was a brilliant plan. I was terrified. I had to hold on to someone or I was going to get hopelessly terrified and have an anxiety attack, and he was really my only option. The problem was-he didn't want to let go. He held my hand for the duration of the haunted house and out to the car. Fortunately, I needed it back to drive.
"So do you want dinner?" he asks.
"Sure. What did you have in mind?"
"Actually," he says hesitantly, "I thought I'd let you pick. Only, it can't be very expensive cuz I'm kinda broke. In fact, it can't be much more than a hamburger and fries."
Ok, can we just analyze the many problems with saying this to a girl you are trying to impress, particularly on a first date?
#1 Usually, we don't want to pick. If you are worried about us liking dinner, plan ahead and figure out what kind of food we like. Otherwise, we will figure out something to eat wherever you take us-it's much more attractive for you to be decisive, we hate being surpised with the sudden question 'what do you want'. My particular favorite lines from P.S. I Love You: q: 'What do you people (women) want?!" a: "I'll tell you, but it's a sacred, sacred secret. You have to swear not to tell. Alright, are you ready? WE HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA."
#2 'cus I'm kinda broke' ?!?!?! Hello! Not brilliant. Even if you are trying to find a girl who likes you for you and not your wallet, telling her your flat broke and can't even afford to take her to a nice dinner, is just stupid. Men are the providers, we DEPEND on them, esp those of us who someday want to be mormon housewives. We do actually need to know that you will be able to do this.
#3 'a hamburger and fries.' Nice. So you're a fastfood kinda guy huh? Ok, really this isn't going to get you in trouble with every girl you try to date. But you might want to try figuring out whether she is vegetarian, or has eating disorders before you suggest such a heinous thing. Also-as a general rule-fastfood is just not cute. Make a meal together-it's just as cheap, and it will show her a side of you she'll really like-one that's comfortable in the kitchen.
Alright, we'll move on now. Obviously, I didn't go for the fastfood thing.
"Well, I'm not too hungry," I replied, "how about we just go get some ice cream?"
So we stop at Cold Stones.
"Ok, please don't get anything more than a 'like it'." Says the Haunter. I'm not kidding you.
"Alright. I normally just get a little kiddy bowl because I can't finish anything more, so that's fine." I will be nothing if not polite on a date. Making him feel foolish would just be rude right? Ha.
"Oh good." He sighs it with relief. I could have smacked him. Honestly! Is he trying to make me feel fat, greedy or beastly? Because he's doing a pretty good job of all three here. Not how I want to feel on a date. No siree. Not at all.
We eat our ice cream and he tells me about his mission. Which he hated. Which was only 2 hours away from his home. Which he blamed every other person available for his misery in. Also, very not impressive.
Next, we go to his apartment to watch a movie.
"My roommates should be there with us." He says. Ok, well then I think that's fine.
We get there and walk into the dark apartment and there are NO roommates. None.
"Well, I think they'll get here in just a little while, so we'll be ok." says the Haunter.
Uh huh. He turns on some Japanese film with lots of violence that I can't understand a word of and sits closer to me than any male not married to me has any right to be. I scoot into the arm of the couch and he moves closer. So I move to the edge of the seat, poised for flight. I can feel him staring at me and so I pretend total fascination in the movie and do not glance at him once.
Finally, the movie ends. We have been sitting in the dark ALONE the whole time. I stand up very quickly.
"Have you ever dated anyone very seriously?" He asks abrubptly. Uh, rude.
"Um, I don't date very seriously here at all actually. I don't know why, something about concentrating on my studies." I'm being ironic, and trying to make a joke, but he just doesn't see it. His eyes get that look, you know, the glowing one. The one that makes them look like they are about to devour your soul with happiness. Gulp.
"I can fix that." He says. Oh my GOSH. This guy just can not be serious! I just laugh lightly and walk out the door to the car. He follows. Apparently he plans to go to my place and walk home again from there. Cuz the car is mine.
I drive to my place, and he invites himself in. We seriously stand in my living room talking about pretty much nothing for about 2 and a half hours until curfew. There are many awkward silences, which I imagine he must have taken for romantic tension.
Then, as I mention that it's time to say good bye and turn to him, I recognize that terrifying look in his eyes and I realize what's coming. He thinks that after all of that he is going to kiss me. Good grief.
I turn around about as fast as I can to head for the door and kick him out, and his head SMACKS into the back of mine. Ouch. Seriously? Did that really just happen to me?
I choose not to acknowledge it. I walk with cherry red cheeks to the door and open it for him.
"Thanks," say I, "the haunted house was really awesome." I really am not even looking at him as I say this.
"So can we go out again next weekend?"
"Uh..." My roommates are walking in, the pressure is on here, "maybe. Sure, I guess, whatever." I shut the door and he walks away. My roommates burst into a fit of giggles.
"Are you really going to go out with him?" One asks.
"I don't know! He's my partner!!! I guess I have to...what do I do?" Complete panic has commenced.
This is where emergency action becomes appropriate. Because all week long, after every practice, he comes to my apartment, lets himself in and talks my ear off for at least three hours til my fun and crazy red headed roommate comes and scares him away. I could learn much from her.
Together, my roommates and I hatch a plan. Another of my roommate's and her boyfriend agree to accompany me on this next date and I do not give the Haunter a chance to change the plans. Then the red headed roommate (who the Haunter has taken an extreme disliking to) decides to come along solo. I will love her forever for this.

Basically, I ignore him for the whole date. But he doesn't stop trying. We go to a burger shop out in the middle of no where with giant burgers, which I just consider extremely ironic. He does actually pay for my meal but I brought money just in case cuz I thought perhaps it would be too expensive. Then we all go home and need to do different things so I tell him that I'm going to have to take him home. I tell them that I am sure I will get lost (if you know me, you know I can get lost in my own neighborhood for hours, so the story was plausible) and ask my red headed roommate to come with me. It takes a kick from our other roommate for her to get it but she does understand and the three of us set off to take him home. The blessed angel pops her head out of the back seat in between me and the Haunter and talks the whole time. When we arrive he gets out with a glare and disappears into the apartment buildings.
She climbs immediately into the front seat.
"Do you think it worked?" she asks.
"Oh I'm sure. Did you see his face when he got out of the car?" I answer laughing. I am confident I have frightened the guy away permanently. I now have a new partner (wonderfully female) in my chinese class and I think I can escape gracefully.
No Such Luck.
The next monday in class he asks me out again. At least I am ready with an excuse this time.
"I'm going to be out of town, sorry." I say.
"No problem," says he, "there's always next week."
The Haunter asks me out every single monday for the next two months. Finally, I think he gets the hint. He never smiles again. He moves to the other side of the class room and GLARES with every ounce of hatred in his body throughout every class period. Then, he stops coming to class altogether.
Great. Another one. Can I just tell you how many guys have stopped coming to classes because of me throughout my life? ...Never mind. You don't want to know. It depresses even me.
How it happened I just do not know because he had to have failed the first one because he not only stopped coming to class but before that had stopped studying (when we were partners I had to feed him most his lines anyways) and had failed at least 4 performances, so there's no way he passed the class, but he showed up in 102 the next semester. And the glaring continued. Then he started failing performances again. Then he stopped coming. Is anyone else a magnet for these strange and crazy men or do I manage to keep them away from the rest of you?

THE END

After the Haunter I decided I was done. That's it. That is the end. I did not date a single person my last semester and turned down every request. Didn't even tell anyone about them. I don't think I'll date again til after my mission thankyou.