Anywho. To start I shall say, I have become a nocturnal creature. For some reason, I find that I have supremely horrible trouble trying to sleep since I have come home to Washington. I generally don't go to bed until at least 2AM and often not til 4 or 5. This is somewhat of a problem, since my wonderfully spiritual family wakes me up at 7:30 for family prayer. Even if I stay up from then however, I cannot sleep at bedtime. It is a conundrum. There are many different theories as to why this is. One: I didn't go to sleep til midnight or later at school after doing hours of mind numbing history homework and now when I go to bed my mind is still so fascinated by all the interesting things I have filled my mind with, instead of history, that I cannot sleep for thinking of all of these. Somewhat distressing, since history is supposed to be my life's mission. Hmmm. Since I have begun to dream in scenes of the story I am writing, combined with weird drama's from YSA, and the odd horror incidents mixed in (don't know where those are coming from...anxiety perhaps?) I am rather convinced that this is the prime reason for my nightly discomfort. Second: I enjoy the quiet of dark hours uninterupted by all but the crazy paranoid neighborhood cop and the occasional taxi dropping strange looking people at the house accross the street-a more common occurence than you would suspect, which makes me suspicious. Unfortuately I had already made it to bed the other night when the nosy policeman (ok-I know he's being nice mom, I'm just being facetious ;) knocked on the door and got my mother out of bed to tell her the garage was open-for the umpteenth time. At least he didn't bang on the windows and scare the crap out of me and Traci this time though. Last time I think we answered the door with a baseball bat. Third: I have not been running at night like I do at school and when 8 or 9 PM rolls around I suddenly find myself with this burst of manic energy that I do nothing with-but write. Everyone else has gone to bed, it's dark and scary outside and the treadmill is possessed, so what else can I do? Then I try to go to bed and I'm jittery and buzzing with unused physical energy, so of course I can't sleep. Fourth: Possible sleep apnea? Fifth: A case of extreme fear of abandonment. This is the first time I have EVER had my own room in my life, and not hearing another person breathing in the room scares me to peices. I have begun to play music while sleeping. Sixth: Lack of faith? Seriously-if it's fear keeping me awake, is my faith not strong enough? How do I fix this? I don't seem to be able to talk myself out of it. Reading scriptures only makes the strange dreams more complicated, because then I'm adding characters in from them. Example: The other night I think Katie Gerke went out with Nephi but the main character from my story showed up at the restaurant and tried to steal him away from her when suddenly a character from the book I'm reading showed up and exposed her to be a spy. Then I suddenly was her and I was running for my life and ended up jumping off a cliff. But of course I woke up before I hit the ground. Did I evaporate? (only funny if you've read the story-sorry) Am I now in the eternal kingdom? I don't know.
Well, that segways into a few other key parts of my life for the past month. The first, obviously being YSA. I've been having a lot of fun with the YSA here and love being back with old friends. There have been games, late nights of craziness, easter egg hunts, temple trips, portland trips and bonfires. I can't wait for the beach trips to begin :D I have only two pictures though, and they are from the week Hannah Zabriskie came home to visit. We (YSA group) were all at a Music Comedy thing after a temple trip. It was a blast. Hannah took these two pictures and then I played with them :) the left is just me haha and below is me and Katie Gerke.
I also must say I had a fantacular time when Bri and Grant came to visit a few weeks ago during the break in semesters. I knew they were coming but to everyone else it was a surprise, and I must say, I kept the secret very well. Bwahaha. Bri took some pictures that night and I messed with them too, so I'm posting them.
As for what I'm doing in terms of a job...I'm looking lol. Probably not as hard as I should be, but I will look much harder after coming home from summer vacation to Bear Lake I think-I'm very upset at the prospect of missing it. I had a close thing with Panda Express but I think I was over qualified...when she asked about me speaking Chinese and knowing Sign Language she looked at me like I was nuts and said "why are you applying here?" Ya. Not a good sign. I really just need to make money, I don't care where and I don't have time for a huge commitment-I'll only be here for a year and 3 months and then I'm off on a mission :) Yay!
Lastly, I will put a teaser on my blog. For the story, of course. It's about an international double spy with special abilities, but that's all I can tell you. I'll put the prologue on, and hopefully eventually publish it as a book and then anyone can read it ;)
Eye
Prologue
Prologue
The steps are stone. I know they must be frigid in this icy weather, but I do not feel it. I am colder.
Blonde today. Like the beam of morning sunlight peeking through the oppressive black clouds above me, I am supposed to give the impression, the promise, of warmth and welcome. Like that deceiving ray of light, I am naught but an illusion of hope to the people who will meet me today. Behind the sky blue irises that lend interest and vulnerability to my expressions, my eyes are black. Completely, wholly and unerringly black. It is fitting.
They call me Eye. It is a multifaceted pun. First there are my eyes, which I am told are striking. I do not know if it is meant that they are beautiful or simply that they are truly disarming. This may not have earned me the nickname, had they not also become my trademark tool. They can be used for such marvelous deception. Eyes can evince laughter, fake fear and tears, portray innocence and play with the heart. No one who has watched me work could deny that they are my sharpest weapon. Secondly is of course a reference to my being a spy. The irony is that both sides use versions of the same silly epithet. However, the third and most likely reason for my title is that I am the Eye. I am that false belying calm that is found after one believes the chaos and terror to be over. I am trusted and welcomed, cherished and praised for the hope I bring. They send me in to comfort, tease and trick the way to an astucious victory. It is impossible to consider me the traitor, the source of the sudden downpour found after my disappearance. I was the hand of friendship, I laughed with you, cared for you, even loved you. Obviously, you are wrong about that. I was merely a magnificent mirage that you will never discover. I am the Eye of the Storm.
Enough introspection. I must remain focused, my task here is imperitive. Not only to the Americans and their hopeless quest for...well, whatever it is they want, world dominance perhaps, but to my own security. If I do not convince these politicians to accept the ten year peace pact I carry, I will have failed the most essential assignment given to any covert dispatch in the last century. In the service of this country anyhow, my career would be ended. Half my income, up in smoke.
Would I be a loyalist then, if I worked for only one master?
NO. Never. I feel the iron wall slam down on the thought before it is even fully formed. I will belong to no one. I have no alligiance. They are right to call me the Eye. No man can tame a storm. A twisters' winds are impervious to human emotion, to the millions of voices screaming for its ceasing, to the suffering and destruction left in its wake. All one can do is enjoy the beguiling calm of the eye. To bask in the breif glimpse of the sun the eye allows you. You are a fool to believe the eye will protect you though. The peace will end with the coming of more bitter times than you have yet known, and the eye will move on to other victims. It does not feel, it does not care, and it does not remember. I do not have a heart. I cannot have a heart.
