Oh yeah...I went there!

Thoughts on 2008

2008-01-01T15:39:00.001-06:00

I had a great time last night with my church family. I really don't have a "home-church" yet (ever since I started school in San Marcos). However, my parents do...and I sometimes attend with them.
Every year they get together at around 6pm and stay until midnight to welcome the new year with eachother. It's actually pretty awesome. I know what you're thinking. Church? Fun? On New Years Eve? Puh-lease!! But for real. It's great. What better place to be than with your family, friends, your brother and sisters in Christ and acknowledging God into the next year?!?! There are games, activities, FOOD, DESSERT, babies, wacky children and more importantly...no drama (you know what I mean...the kind of drama where you boyfriend's x-girlfriend shows up unexpectedly to trash YOUR party or where you boyfriend's bestfriend's girlfriend is drunk off her a** and talking smack to everybody. Or the kind where the night ends in someone being unconscience). That is an example of how NOT to spend new years. In my opinion of course.

Anyways...this is going to be an awesome year. I just know it! Especially since I want it to be!! Last year was such a "blah" year to me. And RIDICULOUSLY hard. School wise, I mean. And I know this semester is going to be even MORE of a challenge, but at least they're courses that pertain to my major. No more calculus crap, no more physics crap, no more english crap or foreign languageness, it's all Chemistry and Biology from here. Sooo excited. Wait, have I mentioned how excited I am?!?! PFFF. I'm also excited for the relationships I'm going to build with my friends. My discipleship group. Getting better from my eating disorder. Fully healing and recovering mentally. Appreciating my family more. Hanging out more with my big brother (because he's pretty awesome). Getting a dog. Possibly. As soon as I get a job to pay for it's shots and food and stuff and junk. What else do pets need? Playing piano more. Getting a boyfriend. It's time for one of those. Aceing all my classes. Staying up late in the library with my friends drinking starbucks through the wee-hours of the night. I'm just TOTALLY excited! This years going to be different. It's going to be great. Because I want it to be. But I've already said that.

Sheepish

2007-12-28T01:35:00.001-06:00

Nothing exciting happened today. For once. I could complain about somethings though. But I'm trying to stop. Lately I've been voicing my complaints a little more than I've ever practiced before. And as outspoken as I am, that was always a big no no in my book. People that complain are sooo annoying. They make me want to vomit. I've always been concientious of that. Complaining I mean. But now, I've been careless and have let my mouth run a little more than it should becoming the very thing I hate. I should stop. Like five minutes ago.

Oh I remember! This is actually really funny. Have you ever found a bruise or scratch on your body somewhere that you don't remember getting? You just happen to look in the mirror and suddenly discover a mark that you don't remember taking part in? Well, something not quite like that happened to me the other day. So let me explain:

So I went to a fall retreat over the weekend and one night while lying on my bed I caught a glimpse of my feet and almost barfed (because they were in dire need of a pedicure). My nails were long and jagged and crooked and ridgety. My soles were hard and crusty and needed some major lotioning. I just couldn't believe that I let myself go out on this trip before running some nail clippers through my toes! How EMBARRASSING. (It's just that I haven't had any time with school and stuff to be worrying what my feet look like, you know?) Anyways, I wake up this morning and my feet have never been sooo beautiful in my whole entire life. And I don't remember giving myself a pedicure! I woke up thinking I would wear sandals that day, and then quickly rescinded that thought because I remember the hideousness of my feet at the retreat, when....low and behold! My feet were beautiful!! But who dunnit? I didn't. An angel of mercy, perhaps? haha. Funny, huh?

Close as Penguins

2007-12-28T01:33:00.000-06:00

It's funny how cold weather brings people together. This morning I got up bright and early to catch the 6:29am-Highland bus to txstate. At about 6:39 we weren't "having it" anymore and decided to huddle up like a bunch of penguins to keep warm. It was great! I met five-new-cool people. Behroz (pronounced Berus-whom has served in desert storm), Emily (who had an 8:00am class), Lance (who has served in the navy for three years) and some other chic that ditched us after about an hour of waiting. (I never got her name).

So finally, around 8:00am, this guy named Travis (who recognized Behroz-pronounced Berus) pulls up in his SUV and tells us he's just gotten off the phone with auxillary services and that apparently the 6:29am AND 7:32am bus are stuck in traffic (yeah right! They're totally are at Whataburger chowing down on a sausage biscuit slash sipping on some coffee until the traffic dies down. It doesn't take that long to get through traffic that early in the morning-AND I promise this is the last of the parenthesis). So he offers us all a ride. Well, actually Behroz just kind of invited himself and subsequently so did the rest of us. But Travis was totally cool with it. We each gave him $5 for gas for the trouble. What a sweetheart!

It was such a pleasant drive. We all talked about our weekend. Then, our majors. Then, Michael Jackson (Don't ask). Then, our role-models (oddly enough Lance does not believe in role-models and oh crap I forgot I wasn't supposed to use anymore parenthesis). Then a little bit of football, because the guys outnumbered the girls in the SUV. I didn't contribute much to that conversation. Now, had it been tennis-talk...I probably would have contributed the most. Then, we talked about camping and what to bring on camping trips, because Travis had mentioned he had just gone camping. Then, our ideal jobs. Then, it abruptly switched over to the subject of Chemistry, because it had just "sunk in" that I had mentioned Chemistry as my major and Lance suddenly became very interested in what plans my were with that field. Or maybe he fancied me. Probably not. That would be too good to be true. NEways. I really got to know these people and I hope I run into them again sometime in the near future. I recommend waiting for the bus in cold-rainy weather if you are looking to build relationships.

I believe in feet-angels

2007-12-28T01:32:00.000-06:00

Halt

2007-12-28T01:31:00.000-06:00

San Marcos had another Power outage (this is the 3rd time this year). I'm so sick of this town. Not as bad as Waco though. But running a close 2nd. The only thing that doesn't make this town bad as Waco is that nothing of mine has gotten stolen yet. And hopefully I haven't spoken too soon. Anyways, it's a known fact that internet needs electricity to function properly and since electricity was out so was the internet. Which is bad when you have online homework you need to submit. And EVERYTHING is in some way or form online now. I'm not a fan, personally. It's funny how all of these electronic commodities were designed primarily to increase the rapidity and effeciency of connectivity, yet it primarily disconnects us more and more from one another. Hmf. I'll probably right a little more later. It's too early in the day for any real drama.

Blah

2007-10-15T14:47:00.003-05:00

I've just been thinking a lot today. A lot more than I should. And thinking is not always a "good" thing. Like in class when you SHOULD be paying attention. I'm thinking about life. About what my true passions are (because I'm sort of a "jack of all trades"). I'm thinking about the choices I've made that have led me up to this point and the people I've met. I wonder about how different my life would have been if I had never gone to Baylor. Because I regret going. I should have never even gone. I wasn't supposed to. My first choice was UTSA, but they didn't have Nutrition. Which doesn't even matter anymore because I switched my major to chemistry a long time ago. I think my life would have been a WHOLE lot better if I would have never gone to Baylor. The only regret I do not have about Baylor is that I met Camila. And she's turned out to be one of my all-time favorite persons in the world. I wish I could say there was something worth while in my time at Baylor. But there just isn't. I think sometimes you just screw up and waste your time somewhere you should have never gone in the frist place and there's nothing you can do about. At the same time I believe in God's word in that all things work together for the good, but up to this point that has not been revealed. Those are my thoughts for right now.

The rubik's cube guy

2007-10-15T14:47:00.001-05:00

So I totally forgot to tell you about this other person I'm in love with. He commutes to Austin on the TxState tram like me. That's where we met. Waiting for the Austin bus. He was reading. (And I will just say for the record that any guy, ANY GUY, reading a book, is totally HOT in my opinion). But in addition to that...he is extremely good-looking. So I was like, "Is this for real? A hot guy reading a book? This is too good to be true," right? But wait. Not only is he ridiculously good-looking. And not only does he read words. But he's a genius. A GENIUS. Let me explain:

So we were small-talking all over the place. And the conversation quickly switch-over to things we do to kill time as we wait for the bus, right? The hotty, Mike is his name, takes out a rubik's cube from his bag (all faded and stuff) and tells me that he's solved it. So I totally believed him. But I pretended that I didn't so that I could get him to show me how to do it so that he would have to sit closer to me so that I could sit the the aura of his gorgeousness. (whew!) And that's exactly what happened. I mixed up the rubik's cube a little. But he told me to do it a little more. But then I said I didn't want to mix it up too much, because our bus was coming in like five-minutes. So he took it from my hands (which was yet another hot factor about him because I love it when guys take charge) and mixed it up even more. I really wasn't even paying attention (well maybe a little). For the most part I was just looking at his manly hands, turning the manly cube, scratching his manly-full beard every now and then in his manly thought process, and keeping pace with his manly breathing so as not to interupt his thinking, speaking to me in his manly voice-inflection, as he GAZED at me with his manly expressions to make sure I was still following him (and I know I'm reading to much into this but leave me alone I'm in love). And not only did he solve it. But he solved it with a couple of minutes to spare before our bus came. I swoon. And swooned some more. It was just so overwhelming. Good-looking guy that likes to read, that can solve a rubik's cube in three minutes, that's a grad student, that's tall, that has a reddish-beard, that studies cellular and mollecular biology, that's smart but has personality, that's in grad school, but I already said that. omgosh. What is a girl to do?

To be continued...

Right place at the right time

2007-10-15T14:46:00.002-05:00

So today is starting off really good. Had a nice ride to San Marcos this morning. Had a nice lab. And I ran into Dr. Garner from Baylor University on my way to the Chem building (which happens to be the presenter at the seminar I was going to). Which is totally awesome! I love it when that happens. I love it when you build rapport with people in high places and you're not even trying. Total providence. So anyways I got to be really funny with the Doctor (so he got to see the "real" me, you know?). We gossiped about some professors at Baylor (And I'm not mentioning names but the initials are Dr. Kane). It worked out so well. Loving it.

I won't be able to write all weekened seeing as how I'm making the sacrifice to attend a fall retreat with the navigators program at TxState and UT. Sooo, I'll just have to catch up with you guys on Monday.

I can barely keep my eyes open

2007-10-15T14:46:00.001-05:00

Me and Trini had an epiphany today on the long ride home to Austin. We came to the conclusion that we are both over-achievers. Way way way over-achievers. I mean, it all makes sense now! The way I pick up little hobbies here and there and then suddently drop them like a hot potatoe for yet another opportunity to excel at something else. There was that one time in high-school when my friends introduced me to swing dancing and how I became really good at it for awhile. Can I swing dance now though? Nope. Then when my brother started playing an instrument, I wanted to play an instrument too. But I wasn't satisified with just playing an instrument, I had to be the best. And sure enough I was always 1st chair in middle-and-high school. I saw my mom crocheting once and asked her to teach me. Not only did I learn, but I could probably start my own successfull business. I can make practically anything: Purses, scarfs, hats, belts, baby clothes, blankets. I'm pretty much all practiced up for grandmahood! And of course there are always my jobs...I remember at Dell I would just beat myself up for not being the top sales rep. And when I worked for the Health and Human Services Commission I worked so hard to be the best that I actually became a boss. AHHHHHHHH.

Why am I like this? I hate this about myself! I don't know why I never realized this before?!?! I totally, most assuredly, positively, without a doubt, am an over achiever. And it totally sucks. I want to be good at everything and beat everyone else at it. It's sooo exhausting. I'm tired. No really. TIRED. But I can't stop. Where do I begin? Is there some kind of rehab for this? Should I pratice being lazy and more laid back? Even at parties I'm such an attention-whore. I enjoy being the person that breaks the ice among the crowd and being the center of attention. I don't want to be like this anymore. I have got to tone it down! I was asking God the other day, "Why did you make me like this God? My personality has got to be the hardest personality for you to mold." Truly. As Christians, were taught to whole-heartedly depend on God for strenght and direction. We're taught that building relationships and sharing burdens with one another is what we're called to do to be part of the body of Christ (in a sense, depend on other people). If this so, then why would He design a personality that naturally desires the exact opposite of that (independence)? Well. I'm definitely asking him that one when I go to Heaven.

Fresh feeling

2007-10-15T14:45:00.002-05:00

So I went to this totally boring seminar today so that I could get some extra credit on my test . The good news though is that I met some cool people there. PLUS my physics TA showed up (who I'm totally in love with). And he not only showed up...but he sat right in front of me! Double trouble, let me tell ya'. I couldn't concentrate on the seminar...the whole time I was just looking at him running his manly hands through his manly hair all sitting in his manly chair taking notes with his manly pencil. Nah, just kidding. I'm not that shallow. I took really good notes actually (I just had try twice as hard to focus) and got to speak to the presenter afterwards.

Today I also met some cool guys that are chemistry majors as well. They're actually sitting next to me while I blog about them. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I should be studying. I mean, that is why I'm hear at the library with these people. But listen...I'm taking a breather, alright. Don't worry about me. I have it all under control. It'll probably just take me another three minutes to finish this blog.

By the way, Nick, the scholarship-guy-slash-chemistry-major-guy is sitting next to me and I am TOTALLY jealous of his breath. It smells sooo good. He's chewing some sort of gum. I think it's spearmint. No. Could be Peppermint. But most likely spearmint. Well, anywho...he's really nice. And he has really nice breath. Don't you love talking to people with really nice breath? It just makes the convo so much more enjoyable. I think I'll ask him for some of the gum that he's chewing so that he can like my breath also. He's Italian. But just a little. He's probably as much Italian as I am Latina. By the way...I'm latina. Not hispanic. I hate it when people call me Hispanic. I love Latina. So refer to me as, "Oh Becca? O'yea. She's that really really smart and funny Latina girl." Well, you don't have to say I'm smart and funny-athough I am-and I mean that in the most humble way possible-but at least get the Latina thing straight. Thanks for reading, guys. Whoever's out there. Until next...

Big Bang

2007-10-15T14:45:00.001-05:00

So the constant weather in San Marcos is hazey. HAZEY. From all the chain smoking! OMGOSH. Seriously peoples. I can't wear anything that's new or that I like because everywhere I go chain smokers are sure to greet me at the doors. I feel like I'm walking through the "Big Bang" everytime I enter a building. Or a waiting line. Or a bathroom. Or bible study. Nah, just kidding. Not the bathroom.

Twisting and Turning

2007-10-09T10:21:00.001-05:00

Gosh. Time flies. I was determined last time I wrote that I wouldn't let myself go one day without writing at least a little of what's going on in my life (That turned out well as you can see). Pfff. So I'm going to try that again. I need to write. It's the only way I can vent at this time. I can't vent to my parents because they already have enough concerns of their own. I can't vent to my brother because, well, he's the most unsympathetic person I have ever met and he hates moping or groaning (even when it's well merited-like in my case of course). I can't mope to my friends because the one's I have right now aren't the kind you go sharing your struggles or problems with. Unfortunately that is the downside of studying all the time and being locked-up in the library day in and day out. I mean, if there ever was a prison for me, it's Alkek. Trust me, I'd rather be building lasting relationships instead of just making casual acquaintances but that's slipped to the bottom of my "to-do" list ever since Chemistry became the love of my life.

Speaking of love and lasting relationships and the such...I'm at the stage in my life where I'm starting to REALLY notice my "singleness." It seems as though everyone around me has a sweetheart relationship or is dating or is engaged or is married. This has never bothered me before. But now it is. A little. Well, like 45% not bothered, 55% bothered. That's considerable, right? I feel like I'm not being let in on a secret or something. Like I'm not happy with my current status. I'm not UNhappy. But I'm not ecstatic either. I've always loved being single with a philosophy of "it'll happen when it happens." But it HASN'T happened. In a while. Why? Is something wrong with me? Are my eyes crooked? Does my breath smell? Am I too aggressive? Yea. That's it. No. Can't be. Hmmm? And I know drama is the last thing I need right now (I mean, it's a miracle I'm even back into school)! I don't want to lose focus just because I "think" I need a relationship because I "think" I missing out on something.

Wrong word

2007-08-09T12:04:00.001-05:00

Marcos was sooo cute the other day. I told him that I couldn't take him to Austin with me like I planned because Leo said he wants me to come by myself so he can tell me about American Idol and he was like, "What? So ya'll are going to go on a date." Um, no.

So I had to clarify to Marcos that brothers and sisters do not date. That if they spend time together it is called "hanging-out." I mean, I don't want him to go telling his friends or my parents or the pastor or anyone that he couldn't go to Austin with me cuz I was dating my brother. That would not be cool.

Resolved: Don't. Just Don't.

2007-08-09T11:50:00.000-05:00

The movie Nacho Libre does not interest me. Noooo interest. Whatsoever. It looked retarded in the previews. And it looked retarded everywhere else it was being advertised. I have never desired to see it and no person could pay me, (and I dare say: even if it were paid to me in half-gallons of mint-chocolate-chip ice-cream), to see it.

But then something came along that changed my mind. It's called peer-pressure. You've probably experienced it once or twice. Its when the people you hang out with seem to always watch movies that you absolutely abhor and insist that you watch them and keep talking about them infront of your face in order to keep you out of the loop until you finally break and go rent it.

So I did. Thanks to Blockbuster. And I know what your thinking, okay. And sadly enough, it's true...I have no integrity. The pressure prooved too strong. I wish I could take it back. For my own self! But I already asked. And Blockbuster does not give refunds on movies you don't end up liking after you rent them.

So anyways, It took me a total of three days to finish it. Can you believe? This movie was so entirely boring and cliche and retarded and debilitating it took me three days to watch it because I had to watch it in spurts. Every time I turned it on I could literally hear my brain cells wimpering unto death as they cried for any picayune amount of intellectual stimulation.

WARNING: Studies show that there is 100% chance of brain damage if watching Nacho Libre longer that 30 minutes at a time. It is recommend by retarded-movies expert, TheBeccaBriefs, to watch in spurts of roughly 10-15 minutes in order to protect the agility of your mind.

Thank you for your time.

One too many flips

2007-08-07T12:08:00.001-05:00

I was sooo mad at myself the other day because I kept working on the wrong homework problems. Have you ever done that? Really? Never? "How does that exactly occur?" you ask?

Okay, well, for example, I was working on ch.18 homework, right? The tutor came by my desk and since I still had some questions from ch. 17 I decided to ask him about ch. 17 first; hence the flipping over of the text book to ch. 17 section. With me? Anyways, what ended up happening is that after I was assisted on ch.17, I continued working off the ch.18 list...IN CHAPTER 17. I TOTALLY forgot to flip over back to ch. 18 section!! Wait, I don't think you understand the degree of stupidity that was committed in this rather stupidosity of a moment.....I. WENT. DOWN. CHAPTER. 18. LIST. AND. WORKED. THEM. IN. CHAPTER. 17. BECAUSE. I. FORGOT. TO. FLIIIIIPPPPP. BACK. OVER. TO. CH. 18. AND DIDN'T. NEVER. EVER. REALIZE. TILL. I. HAD. FINISHED. Dummmmmmbbbbbness.

And I do this ALL the time!! WHY O'WHY am I like this? I lose track or something or whatever it's called! I would rather have waisted my life on watching a bad movie than working out problems that I will never be tested on, you know?

The good news-and I'm not entirely sure if it's good news-is that I'm thoroughly accomplished in any area that has to do with the rate and time at which colliding molecules fall if the plug were pulled from a vacuum enclosed space AND the factors of differing specific heat capacities (aside from molar mass) for virtually every element on the periodic table. So if you need help in any of these areas, I would be but obliged. [sniff, sniff]

Who knows?

2007-08-07T11:29:00.001-05:00

So my new hobby is creatively hiding my things. Living with four little brothers, especially the toddler, has proven a little more challenging than I thought.

They take everything! Wait, let me re-phrase...CALEB takes everything! Who KNOWS how he finds my stuff?! He takes it then hides it or throws it away or gives it away or chews on it. It's horrible. Its to the point where if I'm missing anything I just go ahead and ask Caleb what he did with it. Of course I can't really have a conversation with a two-year old, so our dialogue consists of gestures that correspond with, "where? or show me?" It's definitely challenging.

Caleb randomly comes up to me and returns my belongings that I haven't figured out were even missing yet. One time he brought me my sunglasses, all mangled, while I was studying. Another time my contact lenses, all dried up, while brushing my teeth. I have a feeling he'll hand me something really important next time like my wallet or ID! Before I leave the house every morning, I make sure I have put my alarm, ipod charger, contact-lense carrier, make-up bag, jewlery box, and tooth brush on the upper most shelf so that he can't reach them. It's exhausting.

To do

2007-08-05T01:28:00.001-05:00

So I really want to see the movie Hairspray, but no one will go see it with me. Or admit they want to see it. I mean, I know it's not going to be my favorite, but I'm curious about it. I liked Grease, so how bad can this one be?

After begging my brother to go with me for about a week he finally gave in, but as we were at the kiosk purchasing the tickets he was like, "Man Rebecca, I really don't want to pay 8 dollars to see this." So of course being the good sister that I am-I have my moments-I released him from his promise and we drove to Hastings in Round Rock. Which turned out to be awesome because they had this 7-up t-shirt that I've been eyeing for weeks on sale for $8.99 when it's normally $17.99. Not a bad evening after all! My new favorite store is Hastings by the way.

Anyways, back to what I was talking about earlier...So my friend Ahmed-after holding him at gunpoint of course-agreed to see hairspray with me instead of Simpsons or whatever was playing at the time. But last minute he "misteriously" had an emergency or forgot or something and we ended up not going. Hmmm?

So it seems that I'm the only one in the world that really wants to see this movie. I feel kinda sad and uncool (which I'm not used too-pfff). No matter though. I'll go by myself. It's not like I've never not done something by myself before(?). I mean, if I can go to the bathroom by myself I can sooo go see a movie by myself. ha! O' o! And then I'll probably go parallel-parking later.

Parallelogy

2007-08-03T12:51:00.000-05:00

I would just like to say for the record that I AM the best. The very very best. Parallel parker in Texas. No. In the USA. No. In this continent. No. Still not enough. In the WHOLE WORLD! O' I can't even begin to fully express the depth of my knowledge in parking of the parallel-persuasion.

I'm so good at it that I could make a date out of it. "Man, this chic is really cocky," you say? No, really. I can see it now: he'll ask me, "where do you want to go Becca on Saturday night?" And I'll reply, "Let's totally go parallel parking!" And he'll say, "Huh?" And I'll say affirmingly, "Oh, yeah. You mean you've never gone parallel parking on a date before? You sooo don't know what you're missing!" And then that Saturday we'll go parallel-parking and I'll show him the geometric sequences and mathmetical-trigonometric identities that go along with going in at the right angle and the dos and don'ts of choosing the perfect quantitative space between cars and so on. The date will be soooo fun and successfull that it will most likely end with a sweet kiss. I could totally pull that off.

I first realized my gift upon getting my liscense for the very first time. I got a perfect 10 on the parallel parking test on my first attempt ever. But then I began to notice that no matter the space (big or small) and no matter the car (Huge truck or little Geo), I was able to snuggle in swiftly between two cars on the very first try. It was miraculous. Tantamount to, well, miraculousness.

I'm thinking of even majoring in it. Possibly getting my doctorates in "parallelogy"-the study of parallel parking-you've probably heard of it by now-and then teach it at the college level. I think people would sign up for it. I really do.

Anywho, I'm a pro needless to say. At parking I mean. Of the parallel type. Now regular parking? That's another story. You'd think if you can do one way you can do the other. But this is most definitely not the case. (If you were wondering). ;-)

Full House

2007-08-03T11:05:00.000-05:00

No. Not the show. I'm referring to the "state" or type of "environment" you live in. You've probably experienced it before. Me on the other hand? Well, I grew up with one older brother...which was nice. I realize that now. And NOW I've inherited 4 little brothers: Merced, Samuel, Marcos and Caleb, from moving in with my Uncle's family for school.

I can honestly say that I don't know what silence sounds like anymore. Silence? What's that? It's even a challenge to have a daily quite-time it's so bad!! They like to fight, yell, play guns, get eachother in the nads, basically anything loud. They want to follow me everywhere. They've never had a girl in the house, so they look at me with such curiousity as someone might do looking at animals at the zoo. It's kinda funny. I'm gonna go with bittersweet. Yes. That's how I would describe it. There's no silence, but there's also no boredom or loneliness or monotony.

Caleb is the baby of the four. 2 years old. He has my Uncle's personality. Wild. Bubbly. Full of life. He loves to talk and have conversations with you although he's not really speaking english. He looks like a little pill with a sligh pop-out belly, which is beyond me, because he eats more than I do. His tantrums are so cute!! He tries to really work the guilt trip in us by varying the pitch and frequency of his wails in hopes that we'll respond. But we know better. He loves people. He never had "mommyitis." He's everyone's favorite at church. His different than the rest of us. I mean physically different. We all have black hair, dark brown eyes and olive-tone to our complexion. Caleb came out white, with light-brown hair and light-brown eyes. We tease my uncle about it and say that he's probably the milk man's. He didn't like that. But my aunt thought it was hilarious! Genes are so funny.

Merced is thirteen. He loves Caleb. He loves taking care of him. He'll teach him phrases and words. He's going to be a good father. He also like getting spanked! Yeah, I know. "That age." He's got some smart remarks here and there, but he's a good kid. He's gonna be handsome too when he grows up. I can say that right? I can brag about my cousins good looks right?

Samuel is the middle child. The typical middle child. Always thirsty for attention, even if its negative attention. He does this thing where he will annoy you to death, and then when you get mad at him, he'll laugh uncontrollably. And he'll keep laughing for like 5 minutes. It's fake. It bothers me that he thinks thats the right way to get attention. He eats a lot. His clothes don't fit him anymore. He loves lucas. Lucas is that mexican-chili-pepper-and-lime-thing that you sprinkle on your hand and lick. It's grosse, trust me. But he likes it. He's 8 years old and still sucks his thumb. Does anyone know how to discourage this habit effectively? He has an overbite now. O' Samuel! How much I love him! I worry about him. I worry about his personality and temper. But he's so considerate too. He has a tendency of really listening to you. It's so refreshing, because he'll over hear your conversations that you didn't know he was listening to and remember details about that conversation. And then when you ask him, "how did you know that I like mint-chocolate chip?" he'll say he heard me talking about it somewhere. He has those little ways that make you feel important and loved. I love that about him. It's a good quality to have.

Marcos is 7. He's the most curious about me. He follows me around everywhere. I sometimes have to say, "Okay, I'm going to change now so you can't come in." It's that bad! He loves to see me put on make-up, brush my hair and see the way I brush my teeth (because I use this an oral-b eletric toothbrush). He made me promise to tell him everytime I'm about to go to take my contacts off so he can see it. And he loves cars! He knows all the car types (or whatever, you know what I mean). His favorite car is the Dodge Viper. I'll catch him playing cars by himself in his room when he's normally very social. It's sooo cute. He loves mint-chocolate chip ice cream like I do, so we get along great. We have similar tastes pretty much altogether. And he talks way too much, let me tell you! I have no idea where he gets that from [wink, wink]? Couldn't be from me. I find myself lately zoning out when he's talking to me. I try not to, but it's so hard when he says that same thing in 10 variations. haha. I don't know where he gets that either [wink, wink].

Well, that's my house for now. Definitely the opposite of what I'm used to, but so interesting and different. I love it.

First things first

2007-08-03T10:53:00.000-05:00

I just want to get you up to date with what's going on in my life. I will put it into outline form that way there is no confusion. I'd love to write a disortation on the last year, but I know that you wouldn't read that. So here it goes:

1. Couldn't transfer out of Baylor till I paid the rest of my tuition from the previous semester.

2. Baylor holds my transcripts. Transfer not possible.

3. Quit school

4. Got a job full-time as a caseworker for children's medicaid at Health and Human Services Commission in order to pay off Baylor.

5. Got promoted to Administrative liason, earned more money, gave Baylor more money, therefore finished paying them off quicker.

6. February: Done paying Baylor. Applied to school for summer session.

7. Started at TX State

8. Moved in with a relative in South Austin to commute to San Marcos everyday.

...to be continued.

Not gone

2007-08-03T10:34:00.000-05:00

Wow. I'm back. It's been a while. More than a while. A whole year out the window. Never thought I'd be in San Marcos. But it's been good. There's been resting. There's been healing. There's been growing. I needed this. My thoughts. I love this. Jotting down what I can remember.

Riding in elevators with boys...

2006-09-14T14:25:00.000-05:00

Ugh! Elevator rides are sooo awkward. Each time I'm on the elevator I tell myself that it is that last time! But when you work on the fourth floor of a building and you wear pumps everyday, your relationship with the stairs doesn't last very long.

I mean, elevators are just never a good experience for me. I always get on when someone has just left an auromatic present(a.k.a. fart) and you can't call them out because there's 10 suspects leaving the elevator door. boo. Then there is the writhing of crickets or beetles stuck in the ceiling lights with their toasty-guts oozing out. OR I end up riding with the person I despise the most at work (yup, just you and that scut who's gift is to eternally torture you with their delightful personality).

Anyways, the longest relationship I had with the stairs was about 2 weeks. I just couldn't commit any longer than that. I HAD to go back to the sweet elevator ride that reminds me of how much I won't miss hyperventilation or swollen heals.

So I'm waiting for the elevator one day, right. As the door opens there are two very professional-looking gentlemen duking-it-out on what appeared to be a very in-depth complicated probably political convo. Entering the elevator was instant awkwardness because it was obvious there were some unfinished points to be made. And to top it off, I don't know why, but I decided to stand right smack between them ( I KNOW!). What was I thinking? Why didn't I just veer off to one side and let them finish their debate. But NO. I had to stand right between them.

The ride down was filled with unspoken animosity (between the professionals of course), wary-wandering eyes, and a stagnant stench with a mild scent of cheap cologne. And I thought to myself every last second of the-man-sandwich-elevator ride, from the moment I first entered to the moment of departure, that this was the last time I ride an elevator. Again.

Waiting in line

2006-09-07T15:33:00.000-05:00

It's so good to be back in the blogging world. I miss it so much. Not a day goes by that I don't have an experience I'm dying to log on my websites. It's just that being a grown-up sucks all the energy out of you and robs you a little of what you enjoy. I have sooo many stories I want to share with you, there just hasn't been the time. So many things have happened to me since I last wrote.

BUT, I would like to start off my "season-premiere" story, if you will, with a little tribute to all the pychoes that have to buy like five different lottery tickets slash quicksteps slash tx two-step slash pick threes at a convenient store at 6:50am in the morning. Mother! You have a got issues if you are gambling that EARLY in the morning.

I was already running late to work, and I thought I would stop and get a snack for the day like I always do. As I grabbed my last snack from the candy aisle my eyes met up with a gentlemen on the opposite side of the store from where I was standing, but equidistant from the cashier's desk. Covertly, we both started towards the front. Not long into our stroll to the front counter we decided to lay aside our composure and just race. Needless to say he beat me, (dang pumps!), and also decided to purchase every gambling scratch-off ticket possible. Would should have been a quick stop was a 15 minute break. I made it to work on time (counting the 7 minute grace period of course). Yay for me. I always have a way of pushing the limits, but for some reason I seem to pull through. It's a gift, I know.

It's because guys' secret favorite color is Fusia...

2006-07-20T19:07:00.000-05:00

No joke...I have these fusia pants that at the end of the day never fail to get me a date. lol. I still can't believe it! I'm talking about ordinary corduroy-fusia-colored pants, but with ultra-super-sonic-seductive powers or something!

The fist time it happened I was like, "No way..." I thought to myself as I slipped them on that morning, "Gosh I really look like a dork, but no matter, I'm going to class to learn not to hook-up or anything." By the end of physics class though this cute guy approached me and rather romantically asked me out on a date. haha. Now the date didn't go to well, but the point is that the fusia pants got me the date in the first place. Maybe I should have worn them that night too come to think of it?

The second time I was getting dressed to go to work and the only clean pair of pants were the fusia ones. So, I quickly started rummaging through the dirty-close hamper to see if there was anything with just a slight odor that I could get away with wearing without stinking up the call center. Um, their wasn't. Seeing as how I was running late already I slipped the fusia pants on again and out the door I went. On my way to work though I saw a 7-eleven just calling my name to come in and buy something so I thought, "no harm, get a drink, and get out." Well, what I thought was going to be a quick stop turned out to be a 15-minute encounter with some guy that "swore" he knew me from somewhere, "Are you from San Antonio? What about Ft. Worth? Did you go to this school? What about that school? Yada yada yada... Then, finally the big question, "So how 'bout you let me take you out to dinner...or we can go to a movie?" That's when it dawned on me...(pssst! It's the pants dum-dum). I dropped my head down to glance at my pants and they looked especially gleamy that afternoon (I thought so anyways). I ruefully had to decline his offer this time around.

There hasn't been a third encounter with my fusia-pants yet...I need to ponder over a little on this new found power so I'm trully nsync with it next time I have a perfectly good gentleman ask me out. I just love the fact that when I wear the pants it gives me an advantage. Pffff! One thing is for sure...it's because guys' secret favorite color is fusia that they feel drawn to approach me. haha.

Finally...I get through to the Bobby Bones Show!

2006-07-18T22:30:00.000-05:00

So, me and my Dad are leaving town to get my inspection sticker in Waco b/c they don't have as many emission laws as Austin. It turns out that the Gas invested in the trip plus the cost of inspection itself still turns out cheaper than Austin's price. And to top things off, I actually pass inspection!! Yay for me. So on our way out we were listening to the Bobby Bones Show...

The segment they did was on some "truth-test" game where a caller sets-up a prank on a friend or relative to find out the "truth" about something they've been dying to know. So, this particular test was an older brother setting-up a scenario on his younger brother to find out if he is really Gay or not. The whole time I thought it was going to bomb and my Dad was like, "No way this is going to work!" Well, to our surprise the prank DOES work, the truth is revealed, (all in good fun), and the segment was incredibly entertaining.

Now, I've never seen my Dad so excited...he was beside himself about the whole call. When Bobby asked his listeners to call in and comment my Dad was begging me to call on the show. lol. So the first time I called in I could never get through. The second time my call disconnected. But the third time I finally got through. haha. I sounded like a dork, I know. That was the first time I was actually successful at getting through so I was too concerned about no sounding stupid. O'well. Next time will be better.

Disturbance on the Statesman...

2006-07-03T23:08:00.000-05:00

So why can't I be confrontational AND love Jesus? Just because I love Jesus doesn't mean I don't EVER get angry or talk back or raise my voice or am any less human for that matter. Plus, there are many people in the Bible that are confrontational, but that God chooses as instruments to send his message...(Moses, Jonah, Isaiah, Hosea, the man that told Eli about his wicked sons, Noah, etc.) And these "instruments" are'nt saying they're perfect, by no means. They're just having to relay the message. These people aren't particularly the favorites of the crowd, but someone has do it, right? As long as it's in a loving way deep-down inside, Right?

The only reason that I bring this to your attention is that I had a disturbing comment on my Statesman blog. I keep an Austin American Statesman blog because I blog mostly at work where blogspot/xanga are on the list of banned websites; therefore, I just copy and paste later. This comment was so piercing and personal like Hebrews 4:12...for sure I thought this person knew me because it was such a harsh judgement for someone you know nothing about. After some reflection, I decided to approve the comment anyway...I didn't take it personally and I thought that although it was really foward there was some truth in it. Maybe. My parents taught me to leave the bad and take the good. And that's exactly what I did. The comment is below for you to see (regarding the post, "A Jerk, Lil' O me...No Way"):

I Don't Understand...I'm confused.
You're supposed to be a Christian and worried about your testimony but you admit you willingly and knowingly act like a jerk, rude and confrontational? And you do this in front of your mother, against her wishes, when a good Christian is supposed to honor their parents and abide by their will? Hmmm...interesting life testimony you're putting out here for all to read. Is this the message you truly want to send out about your life? Or are you trying to show that even though you'd like to have a strong testimony and be a good witness you are just too lazy to do the hard work and make the grade?

Posted 6/29/2006 5:41:59 PM
by Anonymous

(This is how I responded)

Comment appreciated.
Ouch. That hurt. You probably thought I wasn't going to approve this comment. And at first I wasn't, but I had some time to think about it. In fact, I truly appreciate what you had to say. I agree with you 100% (about my testimony and what truth I'm conveying to others on this blog). My intentions though on this blog were to convey to people that I'm normal, I fall short sometimes, and I go through all the tribulations and tests God sends our way, Christian or not. I openely write about my faults, because I want people to know that I'm NOT perfect and I struggle to be Christ-like LIKE any other person that claims to be Christian. I don't pretend to be blameless. I know what I told Zuriel was very foward and borderline wrong. If you read my other blogs you can see I write more about Zuriel and what I learn from the experience of him living with us. Thank you again for your feedback. I welcome all constructive criticism. I always say that if it hurts, there's some truth to it. I hope this ameliorates my testimony somewhat.

Posted 6/29/2006 5:51:03 PM
by thebeccabriefs

*************************************************************
You can click the Title of this entry if you would like to see the actual Austin American Stateman page where the comment was submitted to my blog.
*************************************************************

At the drive-thru

2006-06-24T09:14:00.000-05:00

#1, with
everything, mayo AND,
mustard, add jalapenos and cheese,
toast both sides,
rootbeer, no ice.

Mmmm.

Something unexpected

2006-06-18T17:24:00.000-05:00

Our church is growing to the point where I can't tell apart the members from the visitors anymore. That's a good thing though. One of the hermanos invited our family over to their house for a late lunch yesterday which was a nice surprise, because we didn't know them too well. The family is originally from Honduras and moved to the United States about 4 years ago. They have 4 children ranging from 1-12 years of age, 2 boys and 2 girls.

When we entered the home I automatically felt all the love this family had for eachother. Sometimes when you enter a home, just by the way the kids respond to their parents, the way brothers/sisters treat eachother, the way they pay attention to their visitors instead of watching TV or locking themselves up in their rooms till it's time to eat, you just know whether you are going to enjoy your time with them or not.

Their kids warmed up to me rather quickly, probably because I'm such a goofball around kids, and before I knew it we all went scouting the creeks and woods surrounding the apartment complex. Along the way though we stopped by a HUGE Oak tree with a wooden swing strapped to a massive branch.

The ten and twelve-year old took their turns on the swing, while Edward, who was eight, was telling me about a club house nearby in the woods. Before he could finish telling me the story though his eyes met up with the empty swing infront of him and he quickly set off to take his turn. Walking up to the swing Edward turned around for a second to point in the direction where the clubhouse was, and when he turned around, it happened so fast, the swing swayed right in his direction and clocked him in the head. Blood began to gush everywhere...

I didn't know what to do! I didn't react fast enough. I could have stopped the swing, I saw it swaying, but I didn't get to him in time. I tried to find the open wound to apply pressure, but his hair was drenched in blood and it kept running in his eyes. The kids ran off ahead of us to call for help, while me and Edward walked back slowly with my two hands plastered to his forehead in hopes to cover the opened wound.

Just a little far off I could see his Dad and my Dad running out to meet us. They pretty much took over from there, but not until I vomited all over their feet. The blood rushed straight to my head, I could literally hear the pumping of my heart racing in my ears, and an overwhelming nausea came over me. Never in my life had I seen so much blood. I felt bad because it probably took La Hermana the whole afternoon to prepare one of their typical-Honduran meals and I puked it in 3 seconds.

Plus, I totally blew it with Los Hermanos on their first time trusting me with their kids. Seeing how it was Father's day weekend, I would totally understand if they would never trust me again. I'm like, "Here Hermano, I bring forth thy head-stricken son gushing blood everywhere after only 20 minutes under my supervision...Happy Father's Day!" Not the kind of impression I wanted to leave.

But it all ended well. Edward didn't need stiches, I took some tylenol for the nausea, and somehow we all ended up at the pool later on that evening. One thing is for sure, our families bonded like we've never bonded with anyone before. lol. Although the incident was definitely unexpected, what was more unexpected was the great friendship that became of all this. I had a great time.

Tis the word of the day!

2006-06-16T23:27:00.000-05:00

Yeah. So, Zuriel is back. He just couldn't get enought of me! Jk. He's totally over me now that I'm, and I qoute, a JERK. That's okay. He's the only person in the world that I approve of calling me names.

So, anyways...he left without saying goodbye. Left his car for us to fix. (And we're not, well my Dad is, sort of, but only because his parents are cool), and went with his friends. He returned like a week ago, after he realized his car wasn't going to fix itself, and since it's his, he should take some kind of responsibilty. Plus, I think his friends got tired of him mooching off of them. I don't know, I might be wrong. I'm just rambling right now.

His new favorite word is, and get this, it sounds sooo advanced...Paradigm. Paradigm (according to Miss Merriam-Webster herself):

1 : EXAMPLE, PATTERN; especially : an outstandingly clear or typical example or archetype
2 : an example of a conjugation or declension showing a word in all its inflectional forms
3 : a philosophical and theoretical framework of a scientific school or discipline within which theories, laws, and generalizations and the experiments performed in support of them are formulated; broadly : a philosophical or theoretical framework of any kind.

All he says all day long is, "Paradigm this, and paradigm that, blah, blah, blah, again, what your saying is a paradigm, blah, blah, blah, para, blah, digm blah."

We were talking about our opposing views in the car the other day about drinking. I choose not to attend parties, after a couple of experiences, because I feel awkward. The simple fact that my association in that company does not edify my testimony or character is enough for me to find other means of entertaining myself. Again, Zuriel says, "Paradigm this and paradigm that. I don't think Jesus says...blah blah blah, paradigms. You can't just rule everything out on paradigms."

Brow Be Gone

2006-06-12T18:56:00.000-05:00

So this chic with penciled-eyebrows came up to me a while ago and told me that MY eyebrows were a little too thin for the shape of my face. WHAAAA? That ladies and gentlemen, is when you need to re-assess "WHY" you have eyebrows in the first place if you insist on plucking them so thin that even a pencil-eyed girl thinks it's bizarre.

But I was still in denial. I mean, really guys? Like I'm gonna pay attention to some pencil-eyed hoochie that thinks she knows about what goes well with the shape of my face! Uh-uh.

So, I went to Waco about a month ago. I spent the weekend with Camila and Cris' and the gang, AND later on in the day...Camila makes a comment about my eyesbrows in the nicest way possible. But had she not been my friend...she basically would have told me something a little less "Christian." In fact, her Christian-like words went something like this: "Hmmmmm, I hate eyes brows that are thin. I just don't like it! I like it all to be one-thick length over the whole eye...(when she realizes I shape mine the way she detests)...OH, OH, but it looks good on you Becca." lol. Hmmm, not very convincing. ;-)

Well I finally gave in and thought since I wasn't going to listen to a hoochie, I might as well listen to some hints my friends were dropping here and there in our conversations. NOT that I'm a people pleaser or anything, but I took these so-called "hints" especially to heart because my eyebrows are my pride and joy. They're the only things I hadn't screwed up. Until now, that is.

Since then I have been growing-out my bushman eyebrows. There almost like caterpillars now shadowing over my almond eyes. Just a couple of days more and I'll be able to trim them...but only a little this time.

P.S.-I have nothing against pencil-eyed hoochies. I understand that's, "how you roll," and that you've probably taken in consideration the shape of your face anyway which is why you have chosen to pencil the brows in. Nothing against it, per se. I just don't want to look like that. The shape of my face (round?) won't allow it...but you know that already.

Like father like daughter?

2006-06-11T17:05:00.000-05:00

This is too wierd. I'm exactly like my Dad. And if he would lose 100 lbs, wear my glasses, shave his mustache, and grow out his hair...we'd be physically identical to eachother too!

So here's what happened...

It was my little cousin's 6th-birthday and seeing how it's tradition...our family bought him a birthday gift and a hallmark very last minute. We're all in the car, trying to sign it before church. My Dad takes like five minutes to sign the darn thing. I'm like, "Dad, hand it over already. We're gonna get to church with nothing to hand Marcos." He hands me the card next, and when I open it the whole left side is filled with cursive writing. I immediately said outloud what my Dad did, because I'm a taddle-tell. And proud of it. My Mom said, "Honey! Marcos is 6! He can't even read..." It never dawned on my Dad until my mother brought it to his attention, and he just sighed, "O'well. I just wanted him to know how much we love him." Awe. But not really. Now the gift...

We got Marcos a gift card and a bunch of little goodies for him to open. We start placing the goodies in the bag when Leo, my older-brother, pulled out one of the gifts I put in. "What's this, Rebecca?!"

I said, "GUM. Kids like guuuuum, wierdo," which he preemptively interrupted, "Not Trident! Kids like Bubbalicious AND Smackers AND Wonka, boba!" (Boba means stupid in Spanish)

My family just busts out laughing, mainly at my Dad and me, but it was funny for us too. What can I say? My bro was right. I was being a little pragmatic when buying Trident because I thought it would be super-cool to get Marcos gum that's sugar free and teeth-whitening. I thought wrong.

So there you go...like father like daughter: My Dad with his cursive and me with my Trident-gum.

I'm okay with it...

2006-06-11T15:39:00.000-05:00

I think almost everybody is aware now that I don't attend Baylor anymore. There were some stragglers there, by that I mean Shivam, that just figured out like yesterday that I was missing, but for the most part everyone knows.

I'm okay with it. Not being in school and all. I still remember as if it were yesterday when my parents said they couldn't help any more, "Okay...you can get a credit card, quick fix, and be back in school tomorrow, OR, you can take the semester off, work Full-Time, pay it off yourself, and be back in school before you know it." I wasn't particulary peachy with any of those alternatives. But I'm okay with it now. I'll probably laugh at this later on in life. This "take-off" time will just be a dot on the timeline down the road. So, I'm okay with it.

However, it wasn't but a week ago that I WASN'T okay with it. I was angry, bitter, depressed, helpless, envious, melancholic, frustrated, all of the above, etc. I finally decided to take my parents advice, not make them feel any worse because they already feel inadequate, apply for a state job and follow through with the plan.

I've been applying since February for a state job. For every position. At every location. Submitting resumes, paper apps, online apps, going to walk-ins. Nothing. I did everything that could be done. I was relying on what I could do. So, I stopped finally, got a clue, and let God handle it. Till then, plan B...

Since the state never replied, I got a full-time job, on top of my part-time at DFS, with Ecommunications. I hate it (Not because the job is bad or the people are bad, but because I hate working at a place where I feel I'm not learning anything and wasting away my mental prowess). The job was sooo bad that I was the only one to return after the first day. But I thought, "I really don't have the luxury of being choosey." And what do you know, but just after a couple of weeks of sticking with Ecommunications, I run into my mother's old supervisor from at least 6 years ago. She works on the same floor I do, AND in the very next suite. AND guess what else?...She happens to work for the STATE and hiring for the exact positions I've applied for. Ah-hah. No kidding! Talk about some heavenly hook-ups from the very Creator himself.

So I got an interview next week. Very excited. God is letting me follow through with the plan, and I feel that much closer to being back in school. Yay for me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This story is dedicated to those that find themselves in a similar position. And if you find that you are not in a similar position right now, it might be something you'll go through later. And if you don't think it will be something that you'll go through later, hopefully it'll inspire you through a hardship down the road. Whatever the hardship may be. Because no one is immune to hardship. So basically this is dedicated to everybody.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A Jerk? Lil' ol' ME? No way...

2006-06-02T18:23:00.001-05:00

Remember how I told you I was going to act as obnoxious as possible to attenuate any form of attrativeness I might have towards Zuriel(Zee)? Well, it's working. He TOTALLY called me a jerk the other day over the phone. That's a first for me.

The reason was that I basically told him off about leaving without saying thanks to my parents. He lives with us like three weeks now, uses our electricity, gas, food, water, doesn't help around the house, doesn't offer to do anything, doesn't pay for anything (we always take him out)...and then he ups and leaves without an ounce of gratitude. But who's keeping record, right? Well. I told him.

Then he says, "I SAID thanks...didn't you get my note?" I said, "What note? Do you actually think we're going to find a little paper with scribble-scrabble on it at our house? That's soooo impersonal Zee. I sware. We live in the twenty-hundreds now...you got to email or txt us if you're going to be impersonal about sending a message!" So, he called me a jerk. I guess I deserved it. I was a little crass. My Mom was driving while I was on the phone with Zee, and the whole time during the convo she was swatting at me like a fly in an attempt to give me a good smacking. I started to take her seriously when she started to swerve in and out of the lane while scolding me, "REBECCA ANN!!!"

She landed one out of the thirty swats she attempted though. In all honesty, she wasn't trying that hard. And it wasn't because she was a bad aim either (God knows she has better aim than a sniper), but because deep-down inside I think she appreciated me defending her and saying what her gentle spirit could never say. Someone has got to do it, right? I willingly volunteer to be that person.

Slugged with insight.

2006-05-28T17:26:00.000-05:00

I went to H-E-B last night at 1:30 a.m. I needed to get tomatoes for a tuna salad I was making for lunch the next day (don't ask, I was just bored). An hour quickly passed in the circuitous lanes of H-E-B and I ended up leaving with a little more than just tomatoes. I think it was around eight bags or so of groceries.

Getting back to the house I remembered that I had to park on the neighbor's curb, because our house really doesn't have one (just a gutter opening) and because our lot is taken up by three cars already, all of which leave earlier than me in the morning.

Seeing as how it was 2:45 in the morning, I was determined to make it to the front door in one trip. I hate making second trips. I will fill every inch of space on my arm, even if it means cutting off my circulation or permanent bruising, just to make it in one trip. That's just the way I am. Something in me just prefers taking one-almost unbearable-huge load that lots of little bearable ones. I thought to myself, "Okay Becca, it's freakishly scary outside so you can do this. If you stack six bags on the right arm, and two on the left, that leaves your left hand free to open the door."

So as I started my little endeavor to the front door, everything that could go wrong went wrong. Just five steps from the car, the bag carrying the three-liter cokes broke. "Crap," I muffled to myself. I had to set all the bags down to scurry after the two three-liters I dropped, and in vain mind you, because I lost one to the gutter anyway. After restacking my arms appropriately I cut through the neighbor's lawn and into mine as a short cut to the door.

I was glad to see I was nearly to the stepping stones of my house, because the marsy lawn had wet the hems of my pants (I guess the neighbors sprinklers had gone off while I was at the store, because I didn't remember it raining). Upon taking the first stepping stone though, since the soles of my shoes were well lubricated by now, I lost my step somehow and slipped just enough to sprain my ankle. "Oh, brother! Come on!" Pain. Pain. Lots of pain. And the bags were really cutting into my skin at this point.

I plodded wearily the rest of the way. But one last thing was destined to piss-me-off, I could feel it. Probably due to a combination of frustration, pain, light-headedness, fatigued-arms, nervousness, anxiousness, and impatience...the frickin key would not go in right. I twisted. I turned. I pushed. I pulled. I forced. I swayed. I think I even prayed for God to open the blasted door. All the while, still holding all eight bags of groceries. The keys fell to the ground, but not before piercing my toes. I was about to throw the bags to the ground in my anger, when a slimy trail, where the keys had fallen by my toes, caught my eye.

I followed the mucus-based trail with my eyes just a few inches behind me where they subsequently met with an enormous slug. It's rudimentary shell was in desperate need of upgrading. It looked more like a pimple against the amoeboid-body-like mass. And I most certainly would have smashed it had I thrown down the heavy grocery bags. It looked like it was having enough trouble on it's own without me smashing it to smithereens.

Although the slimy trail was a few inches behind me when I spotted it, the origin was far off the porch out of sight. The slug seemed to be crawling away as fast as it could from some super-ants following close behind it. The ants were picking up speed, but the only thing the slug was picking up was dirt grains. A sense of compassion came over me like nothing I've ever felt. I picked it up, hastily flicking at an ant that had already started feasting on it, and moved it to where I thought was safe. The super-ants from behind just scattered, as though disoriented and perplexed.

I finished the tuna salad and put away the groceries, never devoting a single thought to the obstacles on my way to the front door, only thinking about the slug...wondering if it were still safe. There's no point to the story, other than coming to the realization that I liked saving the slug. And how a simple quest to complete a tuna salad could lead to such insight. I slept well that night.

I am the great Slug I am

Crassitude

2006-05-26T19:57:00.000-05:00

Gosh. I don't know what's come over me lately. I've been, well, not myself. Talking smack behind Zuriel's back is just the start. But I don't really consider it "smack" because I'm telling the truth and my blog is just a way of venting. Right? Anyone care to comment? It's not like I'm directly spreading rumors around to where it would really take effect.

And then I've been kinda of mean to people. I bought Salt and Vinegar chips for my brother the other night, well for all of us, but especially for him because he lovvvvvves Salt and Vinegar flavor, and when he opened the bag and started munching I said petulantly, "we're not eating the whole bag today, Leo." He said, "Yes we are." And then I said, "well, I'll just take those back then." And I did. And they are on the shelf still. Uneaten. All alone. Begging to be eaten. By us. But everyone refuses to eat them because we all have our pride. Especially me.

Then, I was eating some pound cake I bought from H-E-B, sitting on the coach next to Zuriel while watching a movie. He looked at me with big puppy eyes and vague but very visible druel on the corner of his mouth, "So what's that your eating?" I said bluntly, "Well, It's just regular pound cake and if you want some you can get some from the kitchen table." BAM. Just like that. No offering or sharing. He said, "Well, I just want a little piece." And I said, "Well, then you can go get some if you want it bad enough." :-( But let me explain...it's just that I really felt like getting back at him from earlier that day for making fun of me because I didn't know what the word crass meant. So, I got defensive. Sue me. Gosh but I should be the better person. I'm failing all these tests God is sending my way.

I really feel that way too. It's as if God sent us Zuriel for practice. Gods says,"Well, Rebecca here is you exact polar opposite in every way. If I were to create a person that would be a thorn in your flesh the rest of your days, this would be him. Egotistical, boastful, patronizing, womenizer, lukewarm, insincere. Now let's see what you're gonna do about it." Did I pass? Uh-uh.

So. Uh. I don't know what to do?...Why have I been so crass lately? (Yes. That's right. I know what the word means. NOW.). Well, all I can say is this too shall pass. hopefully.

p.s. crass-So crude and unrefined as to be lacking in discrimination and sensibility.

Of Johny Bravo and the like...

2006-05-26T19:02:00.000-05:00

These past couple of days have been torture. Zuriel is most annoying. He's reached a new level of idiocy and tactlessness. Not to mention a new hobby he has for pointing out every chic that is supposedly "checking him out." Ugh.

I just don't know where he gets the energy to beef himself up so much. You know, initially I though it was because he was insecure. But now, I thinks it's because he genuinely believes that girls "dig" that. He thinks he has us ladies all figured out. Well, in my opinion he wouldn't know what pleases a girl if it were a snake and bit him! Ugh.

He was telling me the other day about his girlfriend, his asian girlfriend, and how she was voted the hottest asian on campus at southwestern and how all the guys give him dirty looks because he was able to snatch her up and they weren't. I mean, he actually said something like this, "I'm so good looking, that the other guys can't admit it. Guys cannot admit if someone is more good-looking than them." And then he says he likes to slip his number here and there just to see if the girls will call him. Not that he's going to go out with them, but he just likes to know that he can...you know, to satiate his ego.

He tries to educate me on how men think and fuction. He tells me they are all dogs, whether they claim to be Christian or not. ha. I know. Anyways, it reminded me of what my dearest cousin Debbie told me one afternoon over spring break vacation, "Don't ever say, 'oh, no, not my boyfriend, he's different, he's Christian.' Yeah, right! You better believe they're Christian and they like lots of Christian-sex!" So back to the Johny Bravo character...

Zuriel actually knows my cousin Debbie. We are all from the Valley, so we all grew up together in those crucial toddler years to ensure a lifetime of connection between our parents. He's kinda like my cousin too. Infact, Zuriel's mom insists we call her Tia (Aunt), although there is no relation through blood or marriage. My mom and his mom are best friends from Bible College in Edinburg. Over the years, Zuriel's mom tried three times to have a little girl, but God gave her all boys. As a result, she told my mother that she insists I call her Tia so that I can be the little girl she never had. Bless her heart. We put up with Zuriel just for her and nothing else. She's such a sweetheart...I don't know why Zuriel came out all backwards.

Family Matters

2006-05-22T15:42:00.000-05:00

My mom is rarely home. She works by day and attends church meetings by night. And by the time I get home after work she's in bed, having left supper for me on the counter. I actually had to call her the other day at work and start off the convo with, "Hi, my name is Rebecca, nice to meet you." She laughed. I didn't say what I said in a peevish manner, but more so in a reflective way. I mean, it amazes me how sometimes you can live with a person and yet not "cross-roads"-if you will-for weeks. I literally had not talked to my mother in two weeks. We just kept missing each other.

As a result, the bond between my father and I is at an all time high. I actually spend a lot of time with him, more than I paid heed to initially. Rides, eating out, counsel, small talk, advice, joking around, watching t.v., reading, going to church, work, etc. I never realized how much I'd missed hanging out with him until now. Seems like entering high school somehow obviated the "Dad" position and since then had forgotten what the position had to offer. Good times.

And now, we've added another male force to our family. One of my mom's friend's son, Zuriel, is staying with us until he can move into his house. He's so peculiar. So reserved and quiet. Egotistical. I say he's egotistical because when he does talk it's like he's concentrating too much on diction-as to somehow heighten his vocabulary as much as possible-so as to appear erudite. Always stays in his room. But I guess you can expect that when someone is out their comfort-zone. Not me though, comfort-zone or not, I'm pretty loquacious. No fear. And my family is too. We are all so loud and affectionate and opinionated. We spell it out for eachother: how we want it, when we want; hence, evading any miscommunication. We are breaking him in though slowly, but surely. ha.

Zuriel is starting to do these "hip-checks" on me. I guess it's a tennis thing, because he always does it when we are all going to play tennis (him, my brother, and I). The first time he did it, it was at the asian-invasion at the tennis courts a couple of nights ago. He told me to lean in because he needed to tell me something (I thought he was going to make a remark about all the asian people and wanted to keep it discrete). So I leaned in, tilting my ear slightly towards his mouth as to catch a faint whisper, when I was preemptively stricken with a sharp jolt to the hip. He had knocked me over with his hip thrust. Ow!

"Hip-Check!" is all he said. I felt stupid. But now, he's doing it more-like "off" the tennis courts. As if I like it or something. As if I enjoy this sorry and painful excuse of a flirt. I think it's flirting. Not sure. Probably is. That's why I'm going to pretend I'm not noticing and purposely act obnoxious to attenuate any form of attractiveness I might possess.

Well. Better get back to finishing this work application. I'm rather pooped-to be honest-of job hunting. Thought I would take a little break.

Tennis and Ego

2006-05-21T22:00:00.000-05:00

One of my mom's friend's son is staying with us for a couple of weeks until he can move into his home somewhere in Georgetown. He's 22. Just graduated from Southwestern University in Music. Zuriel, "my mom's friend's son", has a predilection for tennis. And so does my brother. I'm going to dare be different and say that I don't-like tennis, I mean. I pretty much abhore everything about tennis. When I picture tennis I picture some incredibly rich person from a hundred years ago trying to invent some sport to show off, thus suffice his ego, while attempting to maintain his attire as clean as possible. It might just be me, but tennis peoples give off this aura of insolence, which I find precarious, since tennis is such a pussy sport. I mean if you're going to be arrogant might as well be in a sport that deserves the word. Like soccer or hockey.

Anyways, back to what I was going to say, my brother and zuriel convinced me to go play tennis with them one evening at the connaly high school tennis courts. When we got there, the courts were occupied with I think the entire freakin asian population of Austin. I thought to myself, "now this is a minority group that's got it right!-When they are not studying they're keeping in shape. ha.

Nothing great really happened that night other than totally embarrassing myself by swinging at thin air nine times out of ten and feeding Zuriel's ego up to capacity. I sware. Like that's possible! Zuriel's ego is like nothing I've ever seen. I bet deep down inside his a big-squishy-vulnerable-little teddy bear, but for now the world must bear an ego-pandemic a while longer.

On the Job

2006-05-13T09:54:00.000-05:00

I'm actually at work right now. My shift start promptly at 7:00 a.m. and all I can think about is how hungry I am. I'm usually not a breakfast eater. In fact, pretty much hate eating breakfast. My stomach hasn't woken-up, so it doesn't make sense for me to exact it's duty so early in the morning. It would be tantamount to when I have barely woken-up and being expected to remember what was said, asked, or commanded of me. It's just too early in the morning, so until I'm fully conscience, don't expect much. But today, for some reason, I'm especially hungry...or maybe I'm just thirsty. I read somewhere that 60% of the time your stomach growls is because your body needs water and not because your hungry. Hmmm? A little precarious, I might say. But whatev. Come to think of it I read it off some wellness and nutrition article or something of the sort.

Food is Yummy to my Tummy!!!

So, I'm at work, but I've already told you that. And I'm hungry. Sleep. Sleepy. Wanting to sleep. Going to sleep. z z zzzzzz, wait a minute. Which reminds me. I can't believe I attempted to rhyme in my last blog-ugh! Grosse! Dork! I should stick to what I'm good at...like, telling people what to do-which is a very big responsibility mind you. I'm not bossy. I just, well lately anyway, tell people what to do and they listen. "Hey, you...do this and that and then some," and poof! Done! I think it's my commanding presence. Or the twitch in my eye with a slightly chipped tooth that might scare x-party into concession. Or the fact that I only pretty much give orders to those younger than me. I'm nice. Just thought I'll let you know before you go labeling me as a primitive gestapo.

I AM nice. SO nice, in fact, that I have to say it all the time to convince myself?!? But I must be. I hate sarcasm. I hate double meanings. Hate undertones. I'm absolutely livid everytime Jessika is sarcastic to Chai or CJ to Kai or Cris to Jessika or Jessika to Cris or CJ to Jessika and even me (when I catch myself). So, I must be nice if I'm trying to keep the peace, right? Musing. Have mused about it. Something to muse. Am finished musing. Yes. I believe I'm nice. Most of the time. Enough to cancel out all the times I explode.

Garrulous Ebullition

2006-05-12T19:53:00.000-05:00

Semester is over. Went by quickly. Yet some more credit hours added to my never-ending chemistry degree plan.

Fulfilling semester though: liked my teachers, worked out, got some major biceps and triceps now, got rid of the love-handles, went on a couple of dates (that's another blog though), met some of my good friends from high school, read-alot-and saw the movies of what I read, finally ate a Lucy's Boat House next to Mozarts (YUMMY), lots of babysitting, got my car fixed, got inspection sticker, more involved in church lately, got my own insurance finally, and more stuff you really don't care about.

I especially loved this last Monday. CJ said she wanted to come to Austin to visit before she left for Brazil. I said I would go over there instead (since she's been here twice already). She introduced me to Vanessa, the newest addition to us crazy gals, and a sweetheart at that. Just a "girls-night-out" type fun. Didn't sleep at all that day.

Oh, sleep. How much I miss thee!!! Where have you been? Why do you take from me what only dreams can mend? I yearn a full nights repose an 80 year old lady has night after night. Sleep, you are my only console in this rapid-weary-circuitous life. Meet me tonight!

Favorite Qoutes of Harriet Beecher Stowe

2006-05-07T22:00:00.000-05:00

I finished reading Uncle Tom's Cabin, and next to Of Mice and Men, this is by far one of my favorite books. I love the way she gave her characters depth and personality...anyways, she has a niche for wording things just the right way. Here are some of my favorite qoutes from the book (although there was many more!):

“ Ye who have wondered to hear, in the same evangel, that God is love, and that God is a consuming fire, se ye not how, to the resolved in evil, perfect love is the most fearful torture, the seal and sentence of the direst despair.” –Harriet Beecher Stowe

“Oh, with what freshness, what solemnity and beauty, is each new day born; as if to insensate man, ‘Behold! Thou has one more chance! Strive for immortal glory!’”—Harriet Beecher Stowe

“They say the alligator, the rhinoceros, though inclosed in bullet-proof mail, have each a spot where they are vulnerable; and fierce, reckless, unbelieving reprobates have commonly this point in superstitious dread.” –Harriet Beecher Stowe

“Oh, because I have had only that kind of benevolence which consist of lying on the sofa, and cursing the church and clergy for not being martyrs and confessors. One can see, you know, very easily, how others ought to be martyrs.”—Augustine St. Claire

“…Because now is the only time there ever is to do a thing in!” --Ophelia St. Claire

“For, so inconsistent is human nature, especially in the ideal, that not to undertake a thing at all seems better than to undertake and come short.” –Harriet Beecher Stowe

“It’s pretty generally understood that men don’t aspire to do the absolute right, but only to do about as well as the rest of the world.” –Augustine St. Claire

“For how imperiously, how coolly, in disregard of all one’s feeling, does the hard, cold, uninteresting course of daily realities move on!” –Harriet Beecher Stowe

“Dar an’t no sayin,” said Sam; “gals is peculiar; they never does nothin’ ye thinks they will; mose gen’lly the contrar. Gals is nat’lly made contrary; and so, if you thinks they’ve gone one road, it is sartin you’d better go t’ other, and then you’ ll be sure to find ‘em. Now, my private ‘pinion is, Lizy took der dirt road; so I think we ‘d better take de straight one.” –Sam (a 12 years old boy who’s precociousness has led him to a rather apocryphal generalization at such a young age. Now the validity to the generalization is, I'm sure some might say, disputable. I thought it was a little amusing.)

P.S.-excuse the nerdiness this time around.

Mini High School Reunion

2006-05-06T10:04:00.000-05:00

From Left: Carrie Morton, Kim Pham, Rebecca Flores

From Left: Lindsey Hoover, Lindsay Gordon, Carrie Morton, Kim Pham, Becca Flores

Remorse Comes Slowly

2006-03-31T19:30:00.000-06:00

I should desperately be working on homework, but I'm so absolutely livid and distracted that I have to blog about it.

I made at least three laps around ACC before I found someone backing out of their parking spot. To top it off, I had to wait patiently for them to get in, set everything in place, look at themselves in the mirror, fiddle around some more, and finally turn the ignition on.

As the car was about three quarters out, some bozo with his longhorn-stickered-black Tahoe decided to cut me off and take my spot. I thought to myself, "Oh noooo!"

He thought I was going to go away, and to be honest with you so did I, but that was until I saw this nicely suited gentleman with a nice-sleek-black blazer and hush puppies slip out of the car.

"Okay now, " I thought, "not only is he from UT publicly rubbing it in everybodies faces by having stupid stickers ubiquitously spread over his stupid Tahoe, knowing that we are all trying to get into UT, but he has to be well-dressed too. I don't think so!" It pisst me off that my arch enemy was a handsome man and not an ugly-stinky-ogre. I opened my window, got close to his car, and said, "I was going to park there...didn't you see my blinker?" (He ignored me). So, seeing as to how he showed me no signs of remorse, I got out of my car and made sure he understood how important it was to feel remorse when you do something bad.

"Hey," I said," I was going to park there. How do you feel? You feel real good, feel like a man knowing that you cut off some girl trying to get to class? [kept rambling to him...] Oh yeah, I bet you feel real good, feeling real great, huh?...because, you know, it looks like your feeling SO good, that it matches really well with that blazer you got on. yeah. It goes real well with those hush puppies too!" (The whole time waving my finger around and the other hand nestled on my hip). I felt good, I needed to get that off my chest.

I got back into my car (I had left the emergency lights on), and glanced back at him before I sped off. He was taking off his blazer, placing it on the seat in his car. "Well, good riddance," I thought. But not really, after two minutes or so all I could think of was that apoplectic face he wore at the end of my grandioso speech (which still was actually a tincy bit delightful from his nonchalantacity from before). But not really. I'm surprised he didn't get a heart-attack.

That wasn't the last I saw of him though, which was really ironic because it took me at least another five minutes before I found another parking space. As I was approaching the double doors to ACC, I noticed the same "gentleman" that took my spot approaching from the opposite direction.

He saw me second, after I saw him, and looked at me with a more remorseful visage this time around. As though to redeem himself, he walked a little faster to open the door for me. I stopped right in front of the door until he made eye-contact with me, and said, "Well, it's good to know that you at least possess an ounce of chivalry...thanks"...and walked off.

No Surprise

2006-03-20T19:10:00.000-06:00

I was a little dissapointed with spring break to Mexico this year because while I had a full itinerary the whole week, nothing really exciting happened. It's just one of those vacations where your everywhere doing everything, yet at the end of they day you still feel that there is something left to do.

CJ and I spoke briefly the week before about her bringing our little group of friends over to spend a day with me in Austin. I didn't think anything of it, really. I mean, friends tell me all the time, "Oh, I wanna come over," or, "We should get together some time, I'll give you a call," and to my surprise, (NOT), no get-togethers or calls ever happen. What mumbo jumbo. But unlike most people, CJ keeps her word.

So she calls me at midnight the day I get back from Mexico telling me she's coming over with Phillip in the morning. OMGOSH. I start cleaning my house and restroom, running to Wal-Mart for snacks/drinks, waking up my dad to help make a list of supplies for barbecue and activites, mapping out Austin, txt messaging everyone to bring quarters for meters...I've never hauled butt like I hauled butt that night. It was great.

Now if you have ever hung out with me, you know that I have the wierdest-shadiest-most-random things happen (for some reason?). CJ is well accostumed, but I hope Phillip didn't get too freaked out.

Everything started out fine...they walked in, we sat at the table, and my mom placed the freshly-baked biscuits on top of the stove for cooling. We quickly got to chatting and reminiscing. It was a good 15-20 minutes of conversation when we see my mom histerically sprinting from the livingroom towards us. She had a dish towel in her hand as if waving a white flag for surrender and wailing out my name, "Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca!!!!!"

We all turned around only to witness a fire completely devouring our ever-so-freshly-baked-golden-brown-pillsbury-biscuits. I don't know about CJ or Phil, but my life flashed before my eyes, subsequently followed by a blanket of yellow blurring my vision. I got up, but I didn't know what to do (I mean, I started fanning the flame for crying out loud, exactly what NOT to do).

When my mom caught up I got out of the way, layed back, relaxed, and watched in awe. I got to witness firsthand the power of my mom. "Man, " I thought, "...look at her go." She put out the fire with her handy-dandy dish towel, through the biscuits, tossed the pan, and cleaned the stove in a span of 3 minutes. By the time I opened the garage door, my Super-Mom had already opened the rest of the windows. Holy cow!

After everything was said and done, we really weren't surprised. If anything, we were mildly perplexed that it happened within just an hour of "Becca" presence, ha. While my mom poundered the poltergeistiality of the event (since the oven was off and everything), I mourned the passing away of the blessed pan we owned for so many years.

O'well, that just gives me an excuse to go shopping [wink, wink].

The Guilt Trip is Effective

2006-03-07T17:56:00.000-06:00

I have been working since I was 15 years old. Crazy times, let me tell you! My first job was actually a "hook-up" from my grandpa. He worked at Symetry Corp. for some construction company and they urgently needed a receptionist [cha-ching]. So there I go, all unexperienced, to my very first job, mondays thru fridays, and starting at 6 o'clock in the morning. Worse yet, it was during the summer! What was I thinking??!

Most people that know me have probably put two and two together and realized this job isn't quite my cup of tea. I'm too restless to be sitting on my booty all day long and mailing stuff. Leo gets so mad at me sometimes because he says I can never sit all the way through a movie (I'm either getting up to go to the restroom, clipping my nails, sudoking, crocheting, getting a snack, excercising, fiddling with my hair, plucking my eyebrows, and what not). It's his explanation for why I never remember anything and why I have to watch the movie three of four times before I can even qoute it. WHA' EVER. Anyways, back to what I was talking about...

I pretty much blew it within a couple of weeks. Summer jobs at six in the morning are retarded. It's just not feasible to be in bed by ten and rested for the morning during Summer break. I tried to pull off that trick from high school where you put a book right infront of your face during "reading time" to pretend your reading when your actually snoozing (while miraculously maintaining conscience alertness in case the teacher walks by). The customers kept-a-coming and becca kept-a-falling-asleep anyways. My ill-fortune with the "snooze-a-not" trick unfortunately landed me in the managers office a couple of times.

Okay, the "snooze-a-not" trick didn't work...so I tried the guilt trip. The guilt trip is when you remind yourself of everyone and everything and every celestial power that has got you this job in the first place while simultaneously pondering the gazillions of people that would die for a job period that you are taking so lightly and still pining even more over how you've screwed up already so as to somehow keep you from screwing up in the future. The guilt trip is actually very effective...not so much on a fifteen year old per say, but it has proven it's effectiveness now than I'm twenty-one.

So if you don't remember anything, anything at all, after reading this blog...leave with at least this: that the guilt trip is a cost effect way to live up to your responsibilites and carry them out successfully (especially when over the age of eighteen). Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd, I'm out.

Nothing, really...

2006-03-04T12:23:00.000-06:00

I saw my ex-boyfriend leaving Wal-mart the other day, after getting gas. Same body type, same hair style, same facial hair, not any fatter and not any skinnier.

It was peculiar that I saw him though, because I swore I had seen him twice already. I even told my mother about it. To say that I'm one-hundred percent positive it was him would be a lie, because the angle was a little misleading. And besides, there really is no reason why he would be back in Austin. But it was him.

I didn't say hi. I didn't want to say hi. Does that make me a bad person? I could care less what he's been doing these past couple of years (not to sound insensitive, but it's true).

I've heard that a whole spectrum of feelings resurface upon seeing an ex. My friend, Grace, says it's too hurtful to see her ex, because of all the "shitty" things he did. On the other side of the spectrum, I have friends that have no problem keeping in contact with exes and still call them up. However my moment upon seeing my ex was characterized by nonchalance, indifference, and apathy. A colossal feeling of nothingness. Yeah.

Me? I absolutely have no interest in ever seeing any of my exes again. We had our sweet moments, but we are exes for a reason.

I just don't get it! Sure, I cared about my ex, but why would I keep in contact? What good could possibly arise from keeping in contact? I'm the kind that when I break-up, I break-up for good. I at least reserve integrity in that. There's no gray area, no calling them to wish them happy birthday or merry christmas, no emails, no giving of advice for them in their future relationships, no talking to them about our past, etc.

Honestly, what would I possibly say anyway? "Hey, what's up, haven't seen you in a couple of years, so how's the kidney thing going...get a new one yet? Oh yeah, and thanks for being a loser and leaving me the way you did!" No thanks.

I just didn't want to talk to him. Nothing, really...

Technicalities

2006-03-03T17:55:00.000-06:00

This is a hard one. I think releasing this drug does encourage sexual promiscuity. Sure it does. Sex without the possibility of bearing a child and not dealing with the responsibility of rearing a child?....Hmmm, sex just got more appealing (for a girl anyway).

Wood argues against the notion that this "plan b" is an abortion pill (effectively killing fertilized egg by preventing it from attaching itself to womb). She says all contraceptives are abortifacients by that definition then, (not true), simply because you're officially "pregnant" only when the fertilized egg has attached to the womb. Give me a break with the technicalities already! It's the principle dumb-dumb!!

You know what the principle is right, Wood? Oh, really, you don't? Enough said then.

http://www.statesman.com/opinion/content/editorial/stories/01/23hight_edit.html

What a great way to celebrate reconstruction after Katrina. NOT.

2006-02-28T19:11:00.000-06:00

My mother and I were talking about how sorry it is that people are commencing a new beginning after Katrina with a Mardi Gras celebration, a celebration that condones all sorts of vices (provoking of the flesh, debauchery, lust, etc.). What a great way to start off a new society. Yeah, right.

I know that people sanction their partaking of immorality in Mardi Gras as "culture" or "support," or what not, but we know better. I know that when girls are flashing the breasts everywhere, "culture" is the last thing on their minds. Wake up!

Instead of falling on your knees to The Creator, asking for guidance, and turning away from all things vile...where's the first place we turn? God? Who's that?

So discouraging.

http://www.statesman.com/news/content/shared-gen/ap/National/Mardi_Gras.html

Jacobellis, you douche bag!

2006-02-28T18:02:00.000-06:00

I couldn't believe my eyes when it happened. My eyes were glued to the television every mili-second of that race, only to be so dissapointed in the end. I saw every snowboardcross race, for men's and women's, but this was by far the closest.

The ladies were so tightly packed for 60% of the race, that it was only a matter of time that someone was going to slip. And it so happened that in one little hump, three of them were totally wiped out. Jacobellis took the lead. Of course she had to get all fat-headed and do a little trick on the last hump in an attempt to pull a "Wescott." This must of been the biggest day of regret for her. She could of had gold.

She can claim all she wants to how silver is still good, and how she is still glad, and how she is still proud, but we all know the truth. I've had silver before, I know. It's not the same. You feel as though you lost, because you were so close.

But, you know, she learned a lesson. Boasting, rubbing it in, "getting caught in the moment," (or whatever you want to call it, just isn't worth it. Jacobellis forgets the gold medal that she would have won wasn't just for her...it belonged to her parents, to her upbringing, to her coaches, to her role-models, etc. She owed them that. She made the biggest mistake of her life losing focus of that and letting her pride get the best of her. Her parents and role-models most likely did not teach her to do what she did, but it reflects on them whether she likes it or not.

I feel so sorry for her. I know, as she probably well knows, that the other contenders do not compare to her technically. Her technique, strategy, and form exceeded Tanja Frieden, the gold medalist, clearly. Once again God bestows His sense of humor on mankind.

Well, that's all I have to say about that.

On Homosexuality: I feel strongly about this.

2006-02-23T18:29:00.000-06:00

The Bible doesn’t have a lot to say about homosexuality: there are approximately half a dozen references to it in all of scripture. Although the passages aren’t always black and white, the bible does explicitly establish that homosexuality is a symptom of man’s fall (just like lying or stealing). Tragically, the church has a horrible reputation for ranking homosexuality the worse of all sins and publicly condemning the gay-Christian lifestyle. Although what Christians have to say about homosexuality isn’t necessarily wrong, self-righteous judgment on homosexuality is just as culpable as the homosexual act itself. Somewhere along the line, the traditional idea of “loving the sinner, but hating the sin,” has faded away.

Before getting into heated debates about homosexuality, one should consider that we are all under God’s judgment. Romans 3:23 says, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” There is not one without blame, except Christ. Romans 2:1 says, “What terrible people you have been talking about! But you are just as bad, and you have no excuse! When you say they are wicked and should be punished, you are condemning yourself, for you do these very same things (this is to reaffirm that all sins are equal in the eyes of God; He does not have a sin ranking system). This should help us calm our indignation against homosexuals, for we are all in need of God’s mercy.

The most prominent passage utilized in Christian-radicalism against homosexuality is found in Leviticus 18:22; which says, “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.” Also, chapter 20 of Leviticus lists homosexuality as a sexual offense such as adultery, fornication, and bestiality. It is not uncommon to see protesters parading around churches and court houses holding up signs with these exact verses written on them. However, the verses protesters use from this chapter—practically the whole book—refers to purity laws of the Old Testament. The argument of Christian ethics in this case is irrelevant: Leviticus is not even appealing to moral law, but to purity laws (i.e. circumcision and diet). The only time there is an explicit theological argument against homosexuality isn’t until later in the New Testament. Only with passages from the New Testament will there be a way of reaching reconciliation between homosexuals and their persecutors (Christians and non-Christian alike).

The fundamental sin—evident since the creation story of Adam and Eve—is following our own desires and refusing to obey (being our own God). This is the only reason why Paul sets aside homosexuality from other sins. He does not set it apart to make it especially immoral, but to serve as a graphical representation of human nature’s rebellion against God’s original design. In Genesis, God’s intention for human sexuality is established: Man and woman are created in the image of God. Man without woman or woman without man does not complete the image of God. They were made for each other, to be fruitful and multiply. And sexual desires are rightly fulfilled through the union between a man and a woman.

When one engages in homosexual activity, it represents a very visible rejection of the Creator’s purpose for his creation. Romans 1:18-32 is a summary of what occurs when one negates God’s purpose:

“Yes, they knew God, but they wouldn’t worship him as God or even give him thanks. And they began to think up foolish ideas of what God was like. The result was that their minds became dark and confused. Claiming to be wise, they became utter fools instead. So God let them go ahead and do whatever shameful things their hearts desired….God abandoned them to their shameful desires. Even the women turned against the natural way to have sex and instead indulged in sex with each other. And the men, instead of having normal sexual relationship with women, burned with lust for each other. Men did shameful things with other men and, as a result, suffered within themselves the penalty they so richly deserved”.

With all actions comes retribution; therefore, consequences are not a deliberate act of God trying make our lives as miserable as possible. Instead, consequences arise simply from the self-destructive course of human nature. Lying and greediness are also indicative of mankind’s rejection of God’s authority that yields a vast array of consequences. The goal is to learn from mistakes, try again and make a change for the better.

This is the problem with Gay subculture: they use their sexual preference to identify and isolate themselves from God. They claim their genetic disposition defines them as homosexual, and they cannot change that. On a secular point of view, geneticists argue that having a genetic predisposition does not determine or define the person, because environment weighs much more on the outcome. On a religious point of view, according to the Bible, the only one that can identify a person is God himself (not ourselves), “For I know the plans that I have for you. Plans to prosper you, not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Some have genetic dispositions to obesity, alcoholism, and drug addiction; yet, not everyone is obese, an alcoholic, or drug addict that was genetically inclined. At the same time, not everyone inclined to homosexuality is or has overcome those tendencies. Doctors will argue that it is not the body’s goal to have these ailments (obesity, alcoholism, and drug addiction), just as God will argue that homosexuality is not the purpose for His creation.

According to the Bible, human kind—to those that have put their faith in Christ—is in a constant struggle against their nature to be transformed to the likeness of Christ. However, full redemption is not acquired until Christ’s return in the following kingdom: “And I am sure that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on that day when Christ Jesus comes back again.” This means, that Christians must continue struggling to live faithfully in the present time. The advantage lies with those that can openly struggle with their sin (praying, supporting each other, accountability groups), which is very easy to accomplish in a church family. Unfortunately, homosexuals don’t have as many opportunities to openly struggle with their sin. Gay-Christians should be welcomed, because they are foremost Christian, struggling like any other to remain faithful to the likeness of Christ.

My Brother the Critic

2006-02-19T19:39:00.000-06:00

I asked my brother to critique one of my essays the other day for school and I thought what he wrote was a little harsh...but also a little funny. He used track changes allowing him type directly on my paper. I didn't copy and paste all the comments he made, because they were ten times more harsh, but have decided to let you in on his ending comments. This is literally what he wrote, copied and pasted:

Good story but it has nothing to do with the prompt. You did not display how you changing anything makes you a better person. You do hint at it though but never say it. You certainly never say why this experience is also going to enrich your life in college. You need to phrase your sentences where you don’t need to use so many commas. What that shows is that you can not decide on what to say which in turn shows that you are either indecisive or scatter brained….you choose your favorite. Lists are ok, but not when you have one every other sentence. It’s, how do you say, annoying. It needs a lot of work.

Nooooooooooo moooooooooooooore
Cooooooommmmmmmmaaaaaaaassssss

Nooooooooo moooooooorrrrrreeeee
llllllliiiiiiiissssssssttttttttssssss.

And if you forget everything I tell you, when you are writing, remember me in the back of your conscience telling your to cut the crap. ok. Just cut it!!!!!! You have a lot of caca in there that no one cares about.

Church Politics

2006-02-09T10:03:00.000-06:00

Should Church Membership be automatic upon baptism?

I didn't know this (well, sort of, but I've never really thought about it), but most Baptist churches' grant membership automatically after baptism. Honestly, I don't really see a problem if a person is baptized by a x-church, and yet doesn't want to become a member of x-church; however, after reading the scriptures, praying about it, talking to my parents, and advisment from two Ministers, Dr. Rady Figueroa-Roldan and Mary Cantu, my convictions say otherwise.

My Pastor, Nestor Menjivar, is motioning to change the section of our constitution regarding church membership. Traditionally, our church has membership of four ways: through testimony, letter, transfer, and baptism. He believes that we should take a more "contemporary" approach to membership and exclude automatic membership upon baptism, and giving another option (requiring a series of biblical classes or instruction). It's not Biblical, but it's not really anti-biblical either.

My father is a deacon at Principe de Paz. He disagress with Hermano Menjivar, but since the majority of the deacons were in accord with the Pastor's motion, he had to fold and side with the majority. He is a little broken over it, but his duty first and foremost is to uphold harmony, so he really doesn't have much of a choice. Now the approval has already passed with the leaders of the church, and will be brought to the church members in a couple of weeks.

This is my argument. If a person has been ministered by x-church, so as to change their lives completely and accept christ, AND desire to get baptized by x-church...then why wouldn't they want to become a member? Plus, other problems, and possibly division, will arise when these new believers that are baptized are going to want to take part in church duties, responsibilities, leadership, voting, etc., but can't because they are not "official" members (for whatever reason, they chose to wait, weren't ready, or in this case haven't taken an instructional class).

I've read all the references to baptism in the NT, and of course, there is no reference to church membership being linked in any way (obviously, because in biblical times, believers gathered in what we say in spanish celulas). So I must look past the words, and discern the principle behind the message. I find soley, through Christ's own example, Christ's own baptism, not only what baptism means (step of obedience), but also that it signifies the beginning of ministry.

Based on Matthew Chapter 3 (the whole chapter), I find that Christ's ministry begins directly after His baptism; therefore, what ministry can a believer have if he is not commited to his church? Christ, as soon as He was baptized, commited to the church in ministry. He was aware of His mission at 12, and began carrying out in His thirties, directly after baptism. Baptism is a step of obedience, but it's also a very public way of saying "I'm a Christian now and I'm a part of the body of Christ."

Our present churches represent the body of Christ, a community of believers here on earth. We represent a church that suffers with eachother, prays for eachother, rejoices with eachother, etc. (Romans 12:1-21). How can you possibly take part, for the edification of the church, if you are not commited to it? Being baptized by x-church tells me that you agree with the doctrine of x-church, are in accord with the Word, and are ready to commit...so why the second thoughts?

I don't know. I love Hermano Menjivar, and I will always have great respect for him. I've know him for so long, I love his family and am very close to them, he started off as my youth minister way back, and now he is my Pastor. He's always backed me up with school, has always had a good relationship with my family since we started la nueva obra, and completely sincere.

He's definitely not wrong. His intentions are good. And I believe he's just willing to change, from a stauch traditional mindset, if it means growth for the church, and that's why he has decided to make a little bit of ammendments to the constitution...However, changing that part of the constitution might possibly leave more room for division in the church.

Let me know what you think? What are your convictions?

Awwwwe, The Month of The Sweethearts...

2006-02-02T18:05:00.000-06:00

Well, I don't have a sweetheart for this year. I'm not exactly sad about that, and I'm not exactly happy about it either. I just find myself reminiscing, a little more that usual, about the sweethearts I have had. And truth be told, there's really only one of significance. He was my first kiss. It didn't happen on Valentines or anything like that...and it wasn't all that memorable. My first kiss just really wasn't all what people hype it up to be.

That being said, I do have to say that my second kiss completely redeemed the first one. Yes, it did! I'm definitely partial to the second kiss. It's actually a sweet little story, which is why I've decided to let you in on it.

I "surprise" visited my ex-sweetheart that day at a dialysis treatment center. I really felt for him, because he had just been diagnosed with kidney failure. Apparently he only had 40% (or around that) of his kidney functioning. I stayed with him for the duration of his treatment. I don't remember what all we did...I just remember that we had fun together (well, as much fun as you can have being tied down by three prongs in your veins). We just talked and laughed and joked and talked some more about politics (we loved talking about politics). Anyways, after his treatment was done, we went to a family dinner at my uncle's house that I had invited him to.

It was dark, semi-chilly, crescent moon out, lots of stars, huge stars, holding hands...definitely magical. I was walking a little ahead of him, and we were almost at the front door when he gripped my hand a little tighter and swung me around (like in the movies guys, no joke). And well, you know what happened next.

The funny thing is that my uncle Merced's house has light sensors all around, and when we kissed...all the lights went on. My ex-sweetheart freaked out and almost pushed me to the other side of the yard. lol. To this day, I wonder why the lights didn't turn on while we were walking up the driveway, but only when we kissed? Maybe someone was watching?...I'll just never know. Or maybe we were totally mackin' it out, and didn't realize the mackinating power of our mackquaciously sweet lips intermacketing. Yup, definitely partial to the second one. Unforgettable.

Our fault or God's intervention?

2006-02-02T17:02:00.000-06:00

Dude, It kind of sucks, because everything is going backwards for my family at this particular time. I think it's due to a series of unwise, or impulsive, decisions that we've all made. Maybe...I don't know. A lot of the times we tend to use "God's will" too liberally. I mean, in the sense that we make decisions, and back it up by saying we "felt" it was God's will. Later we complain, "Why does God allow this? Why is this happening?" and forget sometimes that God really doesn't have anything to do with it. It's your own friggin' fault...your having to deal with the retribution of YOUR friggin decisions.

I don't mean to sound insensitive, but sometimes I feel that my parents are extreme drama queens when it comes to things about God..."Oh, what is God trying to teach me and Oh, why is God allowing this to happen and Oh, I feel the like the enemy is attacking?" or something to that effect.

Now, God is real to me. As a matter of fact, I know He exists. And God is more to me than a higher power looking at his creation beat each other up from afar. But that is not what I am arguing about. My argument is that if there are struggles, or any challenges, or atrocities that come are way, they are products of our own actions or just the bizzareness of this world. To me, it's not necessarily a lesson God is purposely trying to teach us, but more like it just happened...and God is going to use if for the better, I mean, why not? There's no reason to be worried up about what God is trying to tell us, if really His intentions are just to help us get through it.

I don't know, am I right? Maybe I don't take God seriously enough. Maybe I'm right, and I take God in the right amount of seriousness. Hmmm? What do you think?

My Reflection for the Day

2006-01-31T19:39:00.000-06:00

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed. --carl jung

I read this qoute, and I couldn't believe how pertinent it was to my life at this particular time. I love those that transform me for the better. I love relationships that give me a new perspective. I love meeting people that make me want to change those things in my life that weren't good for me from the get-go. I'm glad I got the chance to form some of the friendships that I did, because I'm better for it. Love you guys, you know who you are (or would you like a little hint?).

Just that simple.

Thotz of Long Hair...Reminiscing and Stuff

2006-01-20T19:07:00.000-06:00

I've talked about my hair before. I believe it was my first blog. I shaved my widows peak waiting for a handyman to arrive at my apartment one morning. And now I will talk about my hair again. I guess because it's one of the few things that I do take seriously. I've never dyed it, colored or highlighted it, I rarely rarely blow dry. But every four years or so...

I hate my hair. I hate it. I feel ugly.

It used to be long, and now it's all gone. I cut if off every four years and donate it. I mean I'm glad about that part, but still, it's the same cycle every four years. I grow it, I cut it, I donate it, but then, I dread my hair for about two years until it's an acceptable length to my liking.

Nothing I wear, no makeup I can apply, no perfume I can spray on, will make me feel pretty until at least two years pass. To top it off, my uncles (My dad has 7 brothers, 4 of which live in Austin with us), who are very very very stuck in old-fashioned-cultural-roled-super-blunt-'claridoso'-ways of Mexico, love to tease me by calling me rebeco. BECAUSE WOMEN ARE SUPPOSED TO HAVE LONG HAIR, DISHONOR! Maybe I'm exaggerating a little...but the still find a way to rub in what they think of my hair any chance they get.

I miss it so...There were just so many things I could do with it: Make a bun, curl it, crimp it, half-ponytail, gel it, moose it, leave it flowing, high ponytail, roll curlers in, treat it, tease it, low ponytail, etc. And there were so many things that I could use if for: It was literally like my own human blanket, wipe things off, wack people with it, cover my arms, tie it, smell it, snuggle with it, tickle people with it, chew it, eat it, etc. (Kidding about the last two).

Now I look like a cross between a little-macedonial-hungry-girl-slash-egyptian-could-be-latina-nerdette-slash-might-be-twenty-or-so-but-still-reminds-me-of-a-little-girl-four-eyed-psycho hybrid. I hope these years go by swiftly.

Pranks on me

2006-01-17T00:35:00.000-06:00

Okay, so I love playing pranks on people...but I LOVE it even more when they play pranks on me. Being the little sister, and the biggest dork in high school, I actually have learned to embrace the embarrassment of looking like a total idiot infront of everyone. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, you know, alive. Call me wierd, or whatever.

But lately, ever since a relay-call prank gone bad (which is totally another blog), no one has really tried to pull a prank on me. Until...

So I always hang out at the music building late at night, because thats when my favorite practice room, with the best piano, is available (RM 242). I went with intentions to jam a little, but to my dismay everything was locked.

Hmmm, how wierd? How peculiar? I could always count on the music building even on holidays. I drove around a little more and finally found an open door on the side of the music building.

I stumbled across even some more peculiarities though, when I arrived at the third floor and all the practice rooms were locked. boo. They're never locked. Hmmm, wierd (I prolly should have taken this as an ominous sign).

So anyways, all I really did was use the internet (my dial-up sucks, so I always try to use school internet) and just caught up on emails, facebook, myspace, blog, tmobile website, GTFCU banking, and all that jazz. Within a couple of hours (past midnight now), I finished everything and headed out.

As I was walking down the hallway though, I could see through the windows 2 people, with 2 very skewedish-grodyish derrieres I might add, conspicuously and decrepitely scuttling as fast as they could behind my LeSabre. "What tha...?" Seriously, though...did the freaks really think that I didn't see them...I mean, they weren't discrete under any circumstances, they know that I saw them, right?

Honest to God, I didn't know what to think. I just REALLY didn't know what to think...like, should I EVEN take this seriously?

I really didn't panic, but in the span of 3 seconds, a gazillion things ran through my head..."Who are they? What are they planning to do? Why aren't they moving? What could they possibly want? What if they have weapons? Is it really my time to die? etc." Before I knew it, I could hear the pacing of my heart in the back of my ear, it was so strong. I got a sooper potent dose of my favorite medicine, adrenaline! "Just think fast, think fast, act fast..." I thought to myself.

I quickly just turned around, trying to pretend like I didn't see anything...(after all I was still in the building, just looking through the double doors), and reached for my c.p. to call my big bro, and ask him what I should do. On my way back up the hall, I here my friend CJ screaming, "It's me Rebecca, It's me Camila!"

Whoa. I was pisst, elated, molested, sad, glad, relieved, thankful, and a whole bunch of other stuff that may not be appropriate for my PG-13- rated blog...ha. jk CJ.

I meet her at the door, along with Steele, frowned a little and gave her a big hug. I was just glad they weren't psycho killers. But in a way they both are very much so psychoes, walking around at midnight when it's chilly outside. We all talked another minute or so. My knees were still knocking against eachother, when I walked to my car... Oh, what could have been, what might have been, just the thought still made me tremble. But All ended well. And I was totally kidding about their derrieres... they were very symetrical???!

Did I mention I love being pranked on?

New Years Lockout

2006-01-11T13:18:00.000-06:00

For as long as I can remember, new years has always been celebrated at church. My mom is an ex-missionary in Canada, for 10 years, and my dad went to bible school in Edinburg...there was just no other conceivable way of celebrating new years other than at church. We start a vigilia at 6pm and it lasts all the way through midnight. And then we start to pray at 5 min. to midnight, right into new years, and then we hug and kiss and pretty much stay up all night. Big woop!?

I don't know, but after 18 years of the same thing, it kind of loses it's magic. Not that I don't appreciate God, or don't like the idea if starting a new year with prayer, or anything like that, just want to try something new, you know?

Well, I thought I would do things a little different in 2005 (just as good as any other year!?), and celebrate with a friend's family in Ft. Worth (Eva and Kay Jessica Hernandez, along with CJ). Despite my brother's laments and reprimand on how I am "betraying my family" by celebrating with another's and that this is the "ultimate dishonor"...I just refuse to accept the idea that me celebrating with another's family is indicative of any type of dishonor or inconsideration. Honestly, I just simply would like a new frame of reference, that's all, innocent really. And I was actually very excited about celebrating with Eva and Kay Jessica, especially since it happened.

Of course, knowing us girls, the excitement started right away. After getting introduced to the Hernandez family, CJ and I went back outside to get are things to get settled in. Suddently, CJ started freaking out because she totally forgot to call her parents in Brazil (they're four hours ahead, and she needed to wish them a happy new years before it was too late). CJ asked to use the phone, in which we all promptly turned around and headed back for the door.

CJ turned the knob, and nothing happened. She tried again, and still nothing happened. Next, Eva gave it a try (since she had the key and all)...she inserted the key and she turned and twisted to the point of almost giving her palm and indian burn; still the stubborn knob wouldn't turn.

Now, I have been known (once or twice) in my lifetime to have the gift of magic fingers. I am the one that everyone asks to pop open a can of soda, or twist open a pickle jar, or thread a needle, knotting the most bloaded water balloon, or finding that exact spot on your back that needs scratching, or breaking the knot on your back that no one else can find...etc. So, I just knew that as soon as I had a shot at opening the door, it would almost, and most likely, willingly open for me.

Blast!

Yeah, the blasted bluthering of blastiosity of a knob wouldn't open for the life of me. For no apparent reason at all, the door had locked and we couldn't get it open. The clock was ticking before midnight in Brazil, so us chicas put are three heads together in our indefinite and arduous pilgrimage to the inside of the house.

The first thing that came to mind of course was to scream (surprised?). We prolly looked like pyscho ditzes to the neighbors, trying to get someone's attention to open the door for us by screeching as loud as we could. We tried climbing the trash can, jumping the fence, opening the garage and walking through the piled files and boxes, we tried out smarting an aggressive canine to try to get to the other side, we tried calling on our cell phones...nothing! Kay Jessica couldn't even open the door from the inside. She called her fiance over (from wherever he was in Houston, wk?, hm?), with the tool box, cuz all we could do now was break the door down!

The story ends well: no breaking of any doors, and a timely call made to Brazil. Oh yeah, and are throats...they're okay too! Turns out Kay Jessica just has a wimpy grip, a sooper dooper wimpy grip, cuz when we finally got inside the house through a back door, we opened the front door from the inside with ease. Welcome to the Hernandez's, where nothing can ever surprise you!

Nick Smith smells like coffee

2006-01-11T13:05:00.000-06:00

Okay, so I though it would be funny. Well, at least in sounded funny in my head. I really didn't see it coming, although I should have, because these things love to come my way. I've had a revelation actually from this event, and I know now that my "becca blunders" have nothing to do with God's great sense of humor anymore...most of the time, it's just my own psychoness. ha!

Hmmm, well, I was walking back to my cubicle when I saw a halloween-type-scary-hand aparatus thing, as I was turning the corner. Wait, let me explain this a little better. The toy was of the kind that you turn on with a little switch...the arm looks real to begin with, then you got the drooling-fake blood running down the arm...all you need to do is then turn it on with a flick of your finger...oh, ever so scary!!! The boney-arthritic stricken fingers twisted and swayed in a macabre-witch-murderous-type way...I couldn't resist, I had to play a little prank.

Me and Nick carpool to Dell, so we came in early for overtime. We sat upstairs this time with another manager, Amy Lesperance, so I thought a little prank before getting on the phones wouldn't hurt...especially since our real manager wasn't present. I crept up close to his cubicle, on the opposite side, and I could here that he was already trying to close a sale (I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to totally freak him out). Yeah, well, huh...sort of didn't happen like I expected.

I quickly put the fake arm on the railing of the cubicle and tried hard to turn the switch on. Needless to say, I tried a little too hard to turn the switch on...and I just ended up totally dropping it flat on his desk. What I didn't know was that Nick had a full 16oz styrofoam cup of coffee, which of course spilled all over his pants. I sware, not even a drop landed on his desk! Everything gladly splattered all over his pants.

Now Nick Smith smells like coffee, all shift long, all day long, coffee, coffee, coffee. He didn't even get mad at me. Wow. He prolly wanted to smack me across the face, but didn't cuz I'm a girl (or whatever). I'm surprised we still get along after that little incident. O'well. He got new pants, thats all that matters.

The Yellow Jacket Surprise

2006-01-08T22:15:00.000-06:00

We just got out of Sunday morning church, when an acute hunger came over me and CJ, simultaneously, after finishing small talk with fellow members. I mean, it was to be expected, because we didn't even eat donuts that morning in Sunday School, and we always eat donuts. I like donuts, a lot, but I forgot to eat some. We've been visiting way too much, so that's prolly why I forgot! ha.

So we had been on the access road a good mile or so, when all of the sudden I feel a light brush of wind against my ear, accompanied with a rather agitating buzz. The baby hairs around my ear, as well as the cilia of my basilar membrane of my freakin conchlea, flew up. No kidding.

And so that you understand the degree of queeryness I felt from this aberrant and rather noteworthy noise, I will have to do a trifle amount of explaining. Now, every average american knows that humans can here sound waves between 20-20,000 Hz. This buzz was by far at the extreme end of 20,000Hz! The buzz was like freakin 130 dB, kind of like when a jet flies by, however so fast that is was a soft as a whisper. I really don't know if this makes any sense to you, but basically what I want to say is that upon hearing the buzz...I was confused. Like, "What the H? "

The next thing you know, we see a yellow jacket squirming on the dashboard of the car.

Now, CJ is one of the most gurliest girls that I have ever met, but that day, in that moment, in that particular place, on that hot Sunday afternoon, there was not an ounce of gurlyavity in her screaming. It was almost anti-climatic, practically atypical...instead, she let out a boisterous wail that a 300lb-overweight-bearded-russian might make. I, on the other hand, spat out screams in 2 second intervals, and in harmony with the yellow jacket's squirming. I practically put a beat to it! We were dazed and confused, and honest to God freakin scared for our lives! We practically wet ourselves?!

Thanks to our quick thinking (NOT), we wailed and grunted for another 2 minutes before turning into a residential street, while swirving around 20 mph on the access road. As soon as we came to a stop, all I could think about was survival!

Didn't even think twice, just jumped out of the car and onto the side-road, meanwhile I still heard CJ wailing in the background swinging her arms around like a crazy lady with her seatbelt still fastened. I kind of felt bad that I didn't like, look back or anthing, just jolted for the curve and out of the car. I could help it, I just wanted to survive! Trust me, you would do the same thing!

Anyways, when CJ gave me the "OK," she said that the bee went straight to her face, (that little booger), but when she opened the window the little fellow just flew out. OMG. Talk about wierd things that happen.

"Okay, this is wierd, this is the second time this happens...how do the freakin bees get inside your car, how do they get in?" I asked CJ.

All she says, in utter sweetheartedness, "It's just that I'm so sweet!"

The end.

The Saddest Story: The Belated Beloved Bike of Becca.

2005-12-03T18:16:00.000-06:00

Check it out...someone came into MY house, under MY roof, onto MY staircase...and freakin' ripped it apart in order to steal my bike. It's not funny. This is serious. This means that someone has been patrolling my area, and new that my bike stays inside. That just freaks me out. I was absolutely livid when I realized my bike was gone.

What hurts me the most was that my bike was like my baby. And in many ways was the pride of my life...because I dedicated a lot of time taking care of it, just like a mother with her own babe. I cared for the bike, I W-D fortyed it all the time! I disassembled it in order to paint it olive green (which took me like 2 days, holy crap! And I will add that I will never do that again), I installed a new chain (which was also a pretty arduous task), I installed a new seat, lights for the handles bars and below the seat (because I ride at night a lot of the times), etc. I mean, the bike itself was cheap...but I worked on it so hard. The sweat of my brow!!!!!!

Let me say this again...THE SWEAT OF MY FREAKIN BROW!!!

It's gone now, along with some of the nods of the staircase. But I miss the bike more. And I've shed my tears for my sweet cruiser-mobile. I'm also pisst (excuse my french), because no one in the freakin complex heard anything. Honestly...How do you not here someone walk in your house, knocking boards down. It just doesn't add up. So, I immediately ensued a crime scene investigation and took picture with my T309 c.p.

I am still running an investigation, and you will be happy to know that I have already

In the name of love

2005-11-25T18:57:00.000-06:00

This guy was telling me of a hot date he once had with some girl: They were driving in his car and came to a stop at the light. In which case, the girl quickly took the oportunity to lean over and kiss him. He said that the kiss was only on the cheek, (close to the corner of his mouth), but he immediately contracted an acute case of the "junior-high" jitters.

Of course it's a given that it's only a matter of time before you do something completely retarted, when you get the "junior-high" jitters.

Sure enough, he went on further to say, that subsequently following the blissful kiss his foot slipped off the break and rammed right into the police car infront of him.

I thought to myself, "What an idiot!!?" But I don't know...maybe, deep down inside, I kinda want to do something so completely idiotic, (and I've had my share of idiotic moments), that people just know it was due to an acute case of "junior-high" jitters.

Well, it just so happens that something of this sort did happened to me, while spending thanksgiving with a friend in Houston. On Thanksgiving day (actually, it was already night), we ventured off to Walmart to buy some groceries for a salmon-type meal, because we didn't want the traditional turkey dinner. Promptly leaving the store, for no apparent reason at all, I made eye-contact with what I thought was by far the most angelic face I've ever seen. He had long dirty-blonde locks (I'm a firm believer that if you're a guy with curly hair, you should keep it long), big walnut-eyes, and a rugged type look overall. We must have had an eye-contact lock, or whatever you call it, for at least a solid 20 seconds...for no apparent reason at all.

I'm telling you, it was just like the movies. I'm talking about head-on, absolutely vulnerable, and totally distracted eye-contact. The next thing I knew, I'm seeing bright lights everywhere and background-muffled noises, that were actually screams, telling me to get off the road. I woke up from my "junior-high" daze and looked to my left only to be greeted by a screeching SUV. (I'm sure it looked a lot worse than it actually was, because honestly, how fast could he have been going? It was the Walmart parking-lot for crying out loud!). Apparently, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and just decided to cross the road with out hesitation or precaution.

Oh, but It was great. To be made a total idiot in that name of what possibly might be love at first sight (If that were only true!), was great. Anyways, that was my drama for the holidays: An angelic face I'll never forget (apart from the gurly-wails in the background).

Oops, I did it again

2005-11-24T11:47:00.000-06:00

I'll give you three hints (I'm reknown for this one):

1) It always happens right before you're going to step on carpet.

2) Characterized by a putrid smell.

3) And to this day, I still haven't met anyone who does this more than me.

It's called, "The Why does it smell like crap everywhere I go?--Hmmm, allow me to check my shoe really quick--Holy crap, I stepped in a doodoo again!" Club.

Anyways, I was in the restroom, doing what every normal person does in a restroom, when I was rudely interrupted, from my rather santified tradition, by apocalyptic-raucous-defeaning knocks on the door by "no other than" Cam J.

"It must be Rebecca, then it must be Rebecca, " said Cam J, in a muffled sound. I hadn't opened the door yet, cuz I was still all up in my business (don't "tmi" me, cuz I trying to make you comprehend the gravitiy of the situation).

I opened the door with a rather livid-cindarella's- step-mother-diabolical-type visage..."WHAT must be me?"

"Someone brought crap into the house, so just check your shoe...[blah, blah, blah]" Eric said.

And there it was, right on my poor little Walmart sandal. The dang little abominable ball of dog crap from hell, somehow made it to the sole of my shoe and into the blessed white carpet of a neighbor. AGAIN.

The obstrusive stench had already fumigated every inch and corner of Tamara's brand new apartment, and in the peripheral part of my vision I could see Tamara showering, literally showering, Lysol mist everywhere. The spray might have been Oust or some variation of the sort, but the point is that now the friggin' apartment was gorged with a conglomeration of pestilential-toxicalbration of amoniacal-lethalization of abhorrent-causticalimation of CACA and CLOROX.

We dug out the crevices of my sandal with mini wire-closings (the ones you tie around loaves of bread), and dumped the washings by the porch of Tamara's door (because is was like midnight, and she lived on the third floor; hence, I was too lazy to go down three flights and back in the name of caca).

The end.

P.S. Thanksgiving went on fine. Oddly enough, turkey auroma seams to dominate everything else.

My 1st Suicide Attempt was at IHOP

2005-11-13T18:21:00.000-06:00

I know what you're thinking. It's just not logical. There's no sufficient explanation. If you know me you would say, "What the flip, Becca? Why? You have such a good thing going for you?"

But guys, in all honesty, life really isn't all it's made out to be. Everything in life, thus far in college anyway, is distressing, and yet mild simultaneously. No umph. I have all this crap going on that by normal standards should make me feel alive; yet, I'm still waiting for life to friggin' begin. Boo. So, I had to do, what I had to do.

I won't go into all the goringly-appalling-obescenererous-macabrelitic details...so, let's just say that there were a lot of condiments (if you know what I mean), and leave it at that.

My poor little breakfast club always comes with me to study (Cris, Van, and Camila), so I won't feel so overwhelmed by myself. But that night, especially, I was feeling the weight of life. We ordered. The food was served. And the whole time we were eating...it was on my mind. I knew it was coming. It had to be done.

As I started to gather the tools I would use for my suicide:

Camila looked at me with those big puppy-eyes of hers, not understanding, confused.

Cris not knowing whether to be concerned or to just watch attentively to see if I would have a change in judgement.

Van with a tilted head, watching in disbelief of what might be happening.

I began to pour whatever I could find. I had all the orange juice, blueberry syrup, and diet coke any sane person could handle in a glass...(so to speak).

And I chugged. I chugged till I could chug no more. I chugged until it could possibly be considered a sin. It was only three ounces of the suicidal poison, but I could feel it all through my veins.

"Hand me coffee, ranch dressing, ketchup, and let's make this a real suicide!" Three ounces turned into four, and four ounces turned into five, and five ounces turned into, well, you get the picture.

When I finished the drink, I was revitalized, surprisingly, and utter euphoria filled my soul...followed by indegestion, flatulence (of course), nausea, delerium, and finally a spit ball fight with my gurly gurls.

What a night. What a spit-ball fight. What a suicide.

Becca's Famous Quotes:

2005-11-10T20:30:00.000-06:00

1) "...that's too cute!"

2) "...uughhh, this guy!"

3) "...brush your teeth, man."

4) "...okay, okay, but I'm just saying, I'm just letting you know how it is."

5) "I sware!"

6) "Boo."

7) "Why keep it good thing all to yourself?"

8) "Yeah, I know...I was just testing you [wink wink]."

9) "Holy Crap!"

10) "I am going to commit murder!"

11) "Hey, gurly gurl."

12) "It's kinda like going to the restroom and there's no toilet paper, you know?"

13) "Caca."

14) "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah Yeah. Yeah."

15) "No."

16) "I can't talk. I can't talk. I have no more minutes."

17) "Hey, At least I know I'm Free!"

Top 10 Reasons why EVERYONE should go to a Nascar Event

2005-11-07T01:15:00.001-06:00

10. If you have never seen a "true" Hick.

09. If you have never seen a man with his titis pierced (I had the privelage of witnessing enumerous pierced nipples).

08. If you want to get cancer from all the second-hand smoking, that actually might qualify as first-hand smoking.

07. Because you can waltz in an hour late, and not have missed anything exciting.

06. Because you can bring your own cooler filled with beer, for the first time, into a stadium.

05. For the best concession-stand Nachos ever known to man!

04. If you want to start your own successful ear-plug business.

03. If you have never been to a flea-market (because there's a white-version of one set up, ghettoishly, all around the track).

02. If you want to kiss your hearing goodbye!

01. Because you can breakwind as many times as you want, without anybody noticing, because the racecars drown any such form of sound out.

Top 10 List of what you should do when your football team is BIG-TIME losing.

2005-11-07T01:15:00.000-06:00

10. Cheer for the other team.

09. Memorize the Cheerleading routines.

08. Call everyone on your contact list that you haven't talked to in months (cuz you randomly take down people's numbers to be nice at the time).

07. And then, update it, after figuring out the losers you added that don't exist anymore.

06. Take a "restroom" break.

05. Play "I spy" with your friends.

04. Organize your purse (if you're a girl). Count the money in your wallet (if you're a guy).

03. Start memorizing the oponent's team-fight song, so that you can sing along every time they score a touchdown.

02. Debate with your friends why our team sucks, and how our offense sucks, and how our quaterback sucks...and then ask God and your friends for forgiveness, for taking the convo so personal and for making personal attacks, because you lost self control and you might have exchanged some curse words.

01. Wage shadow-puppet war on peoples' backs, that sit infront of you. (I dedicate this especially to Camila Jatoba, whom waged shadow-puppet war with me, among other types of NC17-type shadow-puppets on peoples' backs.) ;)

Holy Crap! Is that Dog Piss?

2005-11-02T13:31:00.000-06:00

If something outrageous, ironic, devastating, life threatening, absurd, or embarrassing can happen to me...it will. I am constantly subject to God's wondrous humor. He just loves to mess me, in a playful manner though. I think it's because He knows I won't take it personal, and prolly blog about it later (which is what I am doing right now). I mean, God has to pick on somebody, right? Might as well be a care-free soul like myself.

I had just gotten out of the Moody Library from homework and researching, (but mostly bloggin'), when my gurly friends called me on my c.p. to come over and get ready.

"Get ready?" you ask? I was just getting to that...

None of us really drink, or celebrate Halloween, so we dance instead to make up for it. We don't hoochy-ghetto-'slut'imaxified-hardcore-humperate-vulgaramously dance or anything, but we do our best. Now, whether it comes out right or not, is another story.

So, at any rate, back to the "getting ready" thing, my gurly friends have been very successful in converting me to the whole "getting ready" experience (which involves dressing up, putting on make-up, curling/straightening hair, picking out shoes, etc.).

Being as how we were leaving in an hour, (and if you have ever gotten "ready" like a girl, you know it usually takes more than an hour), I had to hall butt on my bike as quick as I could to University Terrace Apartments, where they live.

I got off my bike, and approaching the apartment grounds I saw one of Camila's friendly neighbors outside with his dog (a manchester-terrier looking creature, too cute!). I asked him if I could park my ride on his pole, and he was like, "fo sho." So I did exactly that.

Walking up the staircase, I had no idea that his dog was following behind. Almost reaching the door to knock, I felt the brush of the terrier's hair on my legs.

I was so tickled that the little doggy followed me up the stairs. I started to pet him, "goochy, goochy, goo, oh you lil' sweet bundle of manchester terriness!" while messaging the pate between his bended ears.

Now, I can't quite remember what happened after that. It all happened so fast. All I remember is looking down at my feet, because I felt something unusually warm. A little puddle of mellow-yellow surpirse was surrounding my toes...and I know I didn't just spill Mountain Dew. I just thought to myself, "Out of all the days that I chose to wear sandals. Idoit."

"Um, sorry 'bout that," the neighbor said, "he doesn't see girls too often." Oh, GROSSE-GRODY-GROSSENESS! And what a sorry excuse. That little stinker pissst all over mi toes! boo.

Why is the Wal-mart Guy wearing a Papa John's T-shirt?

2005-10-31T18:21:00.000-06:00

This is just to show you what a scatterbrain I am.

I came home really late one night from Austin, and being the procrastinator that I am, had a but-load of homework due the next day. Called up my study-buddy Cris to go with me to the library, around midnight. Before that though, of course, we had to go to Wal-mart to stock up on snacks for an all-nighter...oh, I mean, buy data migration software.

Cris just recieved a fully-loaded (I'm talking about crazy-out-of-this-world specs, Microsoft Small Business Software, with Windows XP Media Center Addition, Pentium figgin' "M" Processor at 2GHZ, etc.) Inspiron 9300 notebook from Dell, and needed to transfer all data from the old pc to the notebook. So I recommended purchasing the Dhetto Intellimover or Norton Ghost or some PC replacement Suite. So off we went to Wal-mart.

Because I am such a "guy" on the inside-and because I work at Dell and think I know everything-I refused to ask for help to find the data migration software. But we kept looking and looking and looking and still no Dhetto Intellimover. Boo. Daaaaaangit!

I told Cris, "Okay, screw it. Let's just find someone to help us out." We kept walking around and scouting the electronic section...when suddenly, I saw the Wal-mart guy. Blessings! Blessings! Showers of Blessings!

By this point, I just wanted to get the "hay'l" out of Wal-mart so I could get a fraction of my homework done before sunrise. I was so excited to see my Wal-mart helper (or what I thought was the Wal-mart helper) in the distance.

I met up with him, Cris following close behind, while he was reviewing the DVDS. "Um, sir! Can you like totally help us find like software to like, uh, transfer data, you know?" (Or at least, that's prolly how I sounded to the guy--like a total A$$, excuse my french).

Then the Wal-mart guy gave what was the most ambivalent expression ever known to man. So incredibly ambivalent, that the ambivalentosity of the expression ambivalized my ambivalentious feelings about what had ambivalentously just occurred.

ahhhhwk-ward.

"Uuuughhhhh, I dunno, I du-uh-no [kind of in a stuttering-bewildered manner]," the Wal-mart guy said.

But why would he not know, if he works here, you know? I looked him up and down (not in a nasty way, but in a like 'you-wierdo' type way, finally noting that he was wearing an employee t-shirt...but not a Wal-mart T-shirt). Hmm, a Papa John's T-shirt? Even wearing a Papa John's employee name tag? Why?

"Wait a second," I thought to myself, "Why is the Wal-mart guy wearing a Papa John's T-shirt?"

"S#$T, Becca! That guy doesn't work here, hehehehehehe," cris said, and off we went power walking as fast as we could to get out of the aisle, out of his sight, and out of the blasted-scatterbrainedness that I had just committed. I don't know if I felt more guilty about mistaking him for an employee, or for running off like a dog with it's tail between it's legs without explaining myself.

I felt horrible. What an Idiot! Stoo-pit! Stoo-pit! Stoo-pit! You see, I do stuff like this all the time! I think before I speak, absolute diarrhea-of-the-mouth syndrome, yo. I am twenty-years old, you would think that I would have learned by now.

2005-10-27T01:54:00.000-05:00

Hanging out with my lil' cousins (starting from L side): Merced, Marcos, and Samuel.

2005-10-27T01:52:00.000-05:00

Horsing around (no pun intended). ha.

Ice is a Better Name for Me

2005-10-26T23:16:00.000-05:00

I love breaking the ice. Ask anyone who has ever met me, and they will tell you that I am the "Ice-Breakin' Queen." I just love to say the randomest things, bring up the wierdest conversations, be over enthusiastic, and what not, if it means that it will make you feel more comfortable around me or the environment that your in.

I love being silly, and not having to act proper all the time. Now don't get me wrong...I am a firm believer that there is a time for "pahty-pahty," and a time to get serious. But in all fairness, when it's time to have fun...I'm all game.

I'm famous for my Xena Scream, (which I have perfected over the course of college--with all the football games I have been going to). I do have to point out that Lucy Lawless is definitely definitely one of my heroes (didn't want to say heroine, cuz it sounds like a drug, but w/o the 'e'). She is just the awesomest portrayal of a woman ever; she makes me want to put on a big-fat-clunky-fifty-pound-corsetish-leather type tutu on and scream my balls off (um, wait, i'm a girl, but you get what I mean).

I get this from growing up with my baby cousins, and always helping out with Vacation-Bible-School type stuff at church. When you work with kids...you've got to get dirty sometimes, have absolutely no pride, and proudly whip out the five-year old inside. That's just how it is.

Maybe I should change my name to Ice or some variation of it. You know, like maybe "snow" or "snow flake" or "cold water" or "H2O freeze," etc. Yeah, cuz I think "Rebecca" means=marriage knot or something, and that's not very becoming of my personality. Yeah, I think Ice is a better name for me. It'll go with my exotic-self. After the name-change all I'll need is a leather tutu.

I don't drink, I don't smoke, but i MOON

2005-10-20T21:04:00.000-05:00

Yup. It's true. I know at first glance, people don't look at me and say, "yeah, she's a regular mooner," but I totally am, and I totally love doing it. There is just something so incredibly liberating and relaxing from the simple act of slipping off my drawers.

I used to not even consider such a thing. And this is prolly the most daring thing that I will do (well, besides that one time I streaked the hall of kokernot residence hall). I don't drink (well, I have like once--to be totally honest), and I don't smoke, but I most certainly moon.

I have to say that this sudden rise of spontaneity was inspired by a spunky individual I used to carpool with. He once streaked the library and what not, according to him anyways, and made it sound so cool. What can I say? I was totally convinced that I would have to put this on my top ten things to do before I die.

After streaking just that once though, all this mooning is a piece of cake.

My last mooning fiasco was after church one Wednesday night (I know, after church was a little rash, but hey...in the name of fun its okay in my book). We left early, because of a change in bible-study plans that night, and we were on our way home...when we all felt there was still something left to do before the night was over. I'm not sure the girls had exactly in mind what I was thinking, but what the heck? I thought I would go for it.

Camila was driving, so I told her to role down all the windows. Getting closer to 8th street, I told Jessica and Eva to scream as loud as they could on cue (And my cute little innocent friends still had no idea). "Ah-ha," I thought, "Common Grounds is the perfect place to strike." I gave the signal, and my gurly friends screamed with a highest streak ever...

And down went my drawers!

My sweet-bleached-puggy-mexicanlicious-derriere shown all the block long. (Eh-Hmm...I'm still Becca from the Block, though...it's still me, I just like to have some innocent fun every now and then). We made two more rounds along the bear trail, and I show'ed my lil' tushy to all who jogged.

Beware Joggers in the future, cuz Becca from the Block is a commin'!!!!!!!!

No Better Word than Stupidity

2005-10-15T12:07:00.000-05:00

I am the kind of person that can't get away with anything (I couldn't be immoral if I tried). I don't know what common sense is, and I constantly make careless mistakes. I was telling my friend Nick the other day, that sometimes I just get fed-up with myself, you know? I just tire-out myself sometimes. So many negative things, in the past couple of months especially, keep happening because I can't get my FRIGGIN'-act together. There is just no better word than stupidity for all of this.

Stupidity, StuPIDITY, STUPIDITY. Okay, got that off my chest.

For example, I ordered this Debit Card a gazillion years ago (Redeemed the debit card from my work by redeeming airpoints and it's esoteric, sorry). I'm waiting and waiting and still nothing. After a month, I decided to "inquire." I find out I was never supposed to throw the original one away (cuz it's reloadable). This stupidity would have been promptly avoided by simply just FRIGGIN' READING the fine print. Boo.

On another day, no sooner had I gotten on my bike did I receive a c.p. call. I always answer my c.p. (even on my bike). After I finished the conversation, I knew that I knew that I knew I should have just stopped, turned around, and placed it in my backpack, but I decided to slide it in my sweaty-tight-blue-jean-miniture pocket.

Entering my apartment (off 10th Street), I noticed the c.p. had misteriously dissappeared (Daaaaaaangit!). I knew it. I knew this would happen. I had to ride all the way back to the BSB, retracing my steps, looking for My C.P. I found it of course, all broken (but still functioning, the little sucker survived), after like an hour of searching.

And if the two things afore mentioned didn't make you think um, "Stupidity," this one will. Okay, so, I never lie, right?...well, rarely (and usually they're 'white-lies'). But on that blessed day, just to ruin it for myself (NOT), I decided to delibrately full-out lie to my manager about missing work. I said to myself, "I am going to make-up my hours anyway? So, I'll just let him think I am missing for a good reason." I mean, what's the big deal, right? Everbody fibs now and then, when giving a reason for skipping work.

I told Kurt, my manager, that I would be missing Saturday to see my family, (When I was really going to the A&M game with Andy Thrasher). So, being the experienced liar that I am, I start blatantly spouting sonnets of how I am going to the game and how I am going to have a blast and that James should sit with us since he is going too.

Stupidness! I just thought I would throw that out there again, in case you're not seeyun tha' trend.

So, next thing I know, my manager from Down the aisle overheard the convo, and said, "Becca, I though you were going to Austin!" Daaaaaangit. I totally got caught! I don't know why I lied, I'm not good at it, and I am more see-through than air itself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

What I am most sad about is this decision left my character in shambles. And It's done, I can't take it back or rewind, I can't re-do, or call interference...and all for lying 'bout something soooo stupid.

One of the last things I remember my friend Ryan saying (he used to carpool with me and Nick) was, "honesty is the best policy." Now, granted, this wasn't the first time I heard this, but it was TRUE nonetheless. Why are all the simple things in life the hardest to keep. I think it is because they are the easiet to break. Yeah, I think that's why.

Hey, but these are growing pains, right? Maybe I learn next time around.

"Major" Crisis

2005-10-13T12:21:00.000-05:00

Needless to say, I have switched my major a gazillion times (ranging from ballerina to law school), before finally deciding on Chemistry. I decided on Chemistry partly because “I get it” and “it makes sense to me,” but more because it is the quickest route to graduation. That sounds a little depressing, but it’s not. It’s actually smart. I could either spend the rest of my life in school doing what I want to do, (because it doesn’t come natural to me), or spend half the time at school doing something that just “clicks.”

Sometimes I feel the only reason I am going to college is in the name of tradition. This is what I am “supposed” to do after high school; it’s what every person my age has done for the past 500 years (or whatever). I’m okay with that, because in all honestly, what else would I do? I need the education that gets me the job that gets me the income to enjoy life...right? That’s just how I feel.

2005-10-12T17:13:00.000-05:00

Go Glasses!

2005-10-12T17:11:00.000-05:00

Prom Night w/ best friend, Kristen Tran

2005-10-12T17:10:00.000-05:00

Why hello there...

2005-10-12T17:08:00.000-05:00

uh-oh

Baby Hair Blues

2005-10-08T18:40:00.000-05:00

Well, hats off to all the ladies that are blessed with baby hair. And not just any baby hair, the fuzzy-kind that you can't tame or tease or do anything to hide. It just so happens that my baby hair is the kind that is spread out all over the upper lining of my forehead and concentrated conveniently at the very top of my forehead, a.k.a. my widow's peak.

So it all started one Tuesday morning when the handyman was running big-time late. So, since I am all about punctuality-and assuming everyone else holds the same conviction high regard-I was ready by 8:00 o'clock sharp. 8:30am came and still no sign of the handy man...Then 8:45...9:00 crept up...hmmm, you get the picture.

Until the handyman did decide to show up, I thought for once I would be a gurly-girl and "get ready" for class. Cuz normally for the first couple of weeks of class I dress up just in case there are some hot guys, but after that, if a Nick-Zano-look-alike doesn't seem to be attending my class that particular semester, I just go in whatever feels comfy. Anyways, I start getting ready, right? I'm talking about full-out-cake-the-make-up-on-gel-through-tease-up-straighten-my-hair ready!

Combing it to the side is when I noticed. There was the FUZZ. That Dang rebellious little fuzz smack on top of my head that would not side with the rest of my hair. I would think that after the hellish temperatures I put it through with the curling iron, blow dryer, and straightener that it would have done so. Boo.

Now how the Hell am I supposed to deal with this? Let me reiterate: Now how the Hell am I supposed to DEAL with this? What would any girl in my position do? It's not like I didn't try other options first, I mean, cummon'! I tried the curling iron, the blow dryer, and the straightener...got to give my kudos for that at least.

Then, while staring at myself in the mirror (brainstorming ways to resolve the fuzzy issue), I saw in the reflection a tube of depilatory cream on my bathroom shelf. Ah-hah! Never has a sign from God ever been so clear! Never have I felt, to this degree, the complete assurance of what I was about to do. I would fry those little fuzzies off the top of my head till kingdom come!

Yeah, um, that didn't work. My hair is too thick. And so much for signs...

I felt defeated. Conquered. Betrayal, by the depilatory tube that pulled through for me before on a many occasion. There was only one thing left for me to do...cuz I wasn't going to let the FUZZ get in the way of my fabuloso day. I must sacrifice the Fuzz with blade, once and for all, in the name of beauty. I hated to do away with the one thing that was closer to me than a friend for so many years, in such a barbarian-kind-of-way, but the fuzzy issue had gone far enough (and besides the handyman was coming).

I reached in the tub for the schick-quattro-for-women shaver. I reached for the turquoise-equate-shaving-cream can. Dabbed a marshmallow-size ball on my widows peak, and ran the blade over the blasted fuzz. It was finished. All is took was one slide of the blade, and my little fuzzy-friend was gone. All that's left is the untanned-unblemished-quadrate-space my widow's peak fuzzies once proudly occupied.

No sooner had I sacrificed the fuzz, had the handyman knocked on my door. But it was too late. The damaged had been done. I turned on the faucet, and with teary eyes watched my baby hair fuzz whirlpool down the drain.