This assignment was pretty easy. I had already written it, I just needed to tweek it enough to be good enough for turning in. Take a moment of occasion in life that made you think, and write about it. Hence the result...

During the spring semester in 2006, I was attending the extension of USU in Blanding, Utah. In the technology building, there is a huge oak table with chairs all around it. This was my favorite spot to go and work on my homework before I had class. One beautiful, warm spring day I was sitting there and a lady I knew walked in the door. She walked down the hall and into the USU classrooms. I didn’t really think anything of it then, but when she walked by a few minutes later I paid more attention to her. She was fumbling around in her rather large purse looking for, what I assumed, were her keys. Just before she reached out to open the door, I heard her more than sigh then say, “This just isn’t my day.”

There’s few times in my life when I really take a trip on thoughts. I don’t really have time. However, it was between working on Sociology and thinking this through, so of course I had a few minutes of contemplation. What makes it your day? Is it a good grade? Good luck? Does it involve the word good? Does everything have to go perfectly to be your day? Do only a few bad things make the day not yours? Where does that put Mondays? Does waking up on the weekday directly after a weekend make it a bad day? What if Monday came in the middle of the week? Thoughts kept infiltrating my once frazzled brain. I couldn’t sort anything out, and I sure wasn’t making sense to myself.

I couldn’t really come to a conclusion, except that as human beings, if something goes wrong we have to blame it on the day. We think to ourselves, or say aloud, “This isn’t my day, so nothing will go right!” Perhaps we don’t want to take credit for bad things that happen to us, so we’re more prone to put the blame on something else. Of course this theory doesn’t make sense when reversed. We like to take credit for good things. Don’t we? The problem that really seemed to bother me just didn’t make sense. Since when did people start assigning days? How many other humans on this planet aren’t having a good day? How about those that are having good days? Is it just the little bad things that makes us have a bad day, or can it be just one big disaster?

My favorite book is Daddy-Long-Legs by Jean Webster. Her heroine writes to the trustee that is paying for her to attend college about bad days. “It isn’t the big troubles in life that require character. Anybody can rise to a crisis and face a crushing tragedy with courage, but to meet the petty hazards of the day with a laugh – I really think that requires spirit!” I love this idea. How many of us can make it through some catastrophe and say “This isn’t my day?” But how many of us can say, “This hasn’t been the best day for me, but it still can be! Because I’m not one to let a few things get me down!”

To quote Meg Ryan’s character in You’ve Got Mail – “I don’t really want an answer; I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void.” And that’s how it is; I don’t think that I really want answers. Perhaps knowing that in each of us lies the power to change. Instead of sighing and sadly saying, “This isn’t my day.” Perhaps we should just toss the little things into the wind and walk away laughing, just enough to make Miss Jerusha Abbott proud.

So a few days ago in class, Dr. P was talking about stories that end with something shocking or amusing, kind of like a punch line story. I won't relate the story he used for example. But after many days of deep contemplation I came up with this... I think it's great.

In my hometown there isn’t a lot to do during the summer. Most kids go to the swimming pool everyday, which we did a lot as kids, but we also went to one of the four reservoirs we have around Blanding.

When you have a boat, or just a little extra time, it was always a treat to get to go swimming at the reservoir. For some reason it’s better than the filtered pool that’s highly chlorinated to disguise the fact that people pee in it. No, instead we’d rather go to a place with no filter, lots of fish, their guts, and who knows what else. It just seemed more adventurous. There were no crawdads in the swimming pool we could catch and torture.

One day, when I was about three or four, my dad decided he was going to take my older brothers and me to the reservoir to get us out of my mom’s hair for awhile, so he told each of us to go get our swimming suits, towels and some shoes on. Well, I was excited to be going, so I ran up to my room, threw on my suit, grabbed a towel, and put on my cowboy boots. When I came marching down the stairs, my dad looked up and sighed, then said, “Honey, those aren’t reservoir shoes.”

I looked at him defiantly and said, “But Daddy, I can’t find my dam shoes!”

Hmm... Haven't posted here in awhile. We haven't had any new assignments in class, (thankfully) so I haven't had anything really to put on here. So I just decided maybe I'l just blog for a minute or two before I keep working on the endless homework that keeps starting to pile up. Expecially after this weekend. I had a root canal (after unbearable pain Thursday afternoon and Friday morning, even high dosages of pain pills couldn't knock it out) Friday afternoon, missing my Abnormal Psychology class, so I have to read the end of chapter one, study the brain all on my own and fill out/read 21 pages so I can volunteer for Oasis House here in Cedar City. I spent all weekend in this stupper, still taking pain pills, combined with the prescription from the dentist that adds the wonderful side affects to my whole injury, but as long as my tooth stopped hurting I think I'm good. If I can survive tomorrow, I'll be a champion in my own eyes.

I'm really not much a blogger today. Olivia and I woke up at six-thirty to go play raquetball, only to have all the courts being used, so instead of sticking around and waiting for a court, we decided to see what Wal-Mart was like at that time of morning. Can I just say, I might wake up that early to go shopping all the time! It was WONDERFUL! There was no one. We got our exercise by running from the car into the store and then back, 'cause it was absolutely freezing outside (8 degrees on the school marque on the way back)!

Ok, my tummy is telling me it's time to go eat something or suffer some very bad consequences. It's not very happy with me just feeding it pills and a little applesauce or yogurt every once in awhile 'cause I couldn't chew. Maybe I'll go get Chinese...

Lost Poem. We had to describe an item that we actually lost, then relate it to something else in life that we lost, but we can't mention it by name. This is the only other poem I have, and hopefully the last that I have to write! And hopefully you get what I'm writing about... I shouldn't think it's that hard! Adios!

Once is Lost is Gone for Good

She had blonde hair, blue eyes,
Pink Osh Kosh overalls,
Together our imaginations reached beyond skies.
She could be termed my best friend.

She was made and given to me,
Built as a “kid sister”,
Her sole purpose was to fill my life with glee.
To be my tag along.

When it came time to say good-bye,
Time to finally grow up,
All I wanted to do was cry.
She became my lost girl.

Now a "grown woman”,
Sometimes, when I’m feeling blue,
In my mind, the past will run
fleetingly, leaving me melancholy.

When grown things are in my face,
I close my eyes and wish,
Hope to go back to that place.
When she and I were friends.

But she was just a doll.

Moments
Her face contorted in uncomfortable, unbearable pain.

The gloriousness of understanding enveloping a once confused, dazed look.

Such a time in life when all is well, and everyone is laughing hysterically at the simplest thing.

A hand on the small of her back, gently, lovingly leading.

The feeling you get when you look at the one you love, and you just know; he's yours.

The face, upturned to greet the beloved moisture falling from darkened clouds.

The embrace of a mother for a daughter before she leaves home.

The way the look on his face changes completely when he glances the one he loves as she walks towards him.


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Images
The soft light of sunset coming through the window and settling on the light film of dust on a picture frame.

The peacefulness of sleep on a face that once was sad.

A student held to their math book, drenched in the knowledge contained within.

The look of peacefulness on the dying face as the lungs draw that terminal breath.

Thousands of drops of water dotting a car.

A student all buddled up against the cold, but they still have a very red nose.