Hypothesis 8: I'll find them the Truth.

Well, I'm procrastinating again. The news rambles on in the background. Bush is suppose to make some speach about the war in a little bit, and somehow the papers will find him mortality in it and announce it over the next couple days. Speaking of the paper, I took a field trip to the Seattle Times today. It was good because I thought I always wanted to be a journalist. And I do still, but I can't stand the limits of being local. So maybe the New York Times instead. They get out more. Reporting sounds more exciting but I'll always love to write. Above all, I want to be an editorialist, but only when i'm older and I know more. While I'm young I can run the globe for a good story. The only thing I really want to find its Truth though. And make Truth known. Who believes a journalist though? A Christian female journalist? I haven't decided if I'm Republican or Democrat yet, I don't think I really need to. But I do feel God has placed me in this country for a reason, as we drift farther from the Truth. I know we won't be the "great America" for long, and I know our enemies are at our doorsteps. Just look past the screen of the media at the real world, or look in the Bible even. Its all there. And many times I want to run far far away from my country. It cuts me deep to see what we've become. But I have a duty while I'm here. God may place me somewhere else and I'll shine the light of Truth in other lands. But this land is dying, and I can't turn my back on it just yet.

Hypothesis 7: Britt's a butt...

...who wont let me use the laptop.

Hypothesis 6: You got you. Not her.

I hate this sucky feeling. Somehow, and I never know why, I get hooked on looking at internet photo galleries of girls I'll never be. Its a crazy addiction when it hits, and sometimes I think I'm a lesbian because of my tendency to click, click, click. But I don't have a sexual desire to be with them, its like I have a sexual desire BE them. So others can look upon me and want to be me too. So I continue to look at girls who never knew me, nothing like me, but someone I want to be. And I should be doing my homework, something productive like that, that makes me more of who I'm meant to be. But like a plague I retire to my bathroom after an undiscovered battle in my heart and apply my eye makeup like her, or push my bra up like that, or even, stare at the toilet and gulp. Hoping I'll never throw up to be like them but wanting to know if I could, and if it would work. I hate these feelings. They just aren't me. I have to write to grip one fist length higher on the escape rope. To climb out of the hole that I try so hard to admit isn't there. It's kinda like that tiger pit in the old Disney's Swiss Family Robbinson. I'm a bad actor pirate who just so happens to fall in. But I knew it was there all the time. And its funny. I'm listening to my indie rock, with dark purple nails and big wooden hoops. But in my perfect hell I'm just like them.

Hypothesis 5: You always get up on the horse again, and again, and again.

Today I spoke with Billy. And we spoke. We didn't "TALK". We just conversed about his new mustang and my comments in english and culinary arts which we have together. It hurts to type because my fingers are all cut up from apple crisp. So ya, bagging sucked today as well. So we're talking. Not as freely as I want it to be, its still a little awkward. But hey, when have I known what I want. Mostly, I miss hearing him joke, and laugh, like I've lisened to him do for the past 5 years. I love that. But I'm starting to move on. It's lonely and liberating, like having a clean etch-a-sketch but having no clue wut to draw on it. Although, sometimes I wish I wouldn't have shaken it away in the first place. Nevertheless, time continues on its rambling course and I'm a drunk sailor trying to follow it. Oh boy. But I'm excited, this new year holds so much, the glorious and mischeivious moments. Such as smoking cigars for the first time with Britt, under the train tracks where the sand meets the sea, last night. So with this new year I have new dreams and a new piece of my heart to find. Hopefully I'll get off my blog and chase those dreams (and accordingly get on my blog and find that new piece).

Hypothesis 4: There's a season for everything

Just got back from work, and we have three new guys. Three new baggers. Which makes me. Not the new bagger. Its strange. For three month I've been the new girl and all of a sudden I'm teaching "Adam" and "Garret" how to mop. Strange. It feels strange yet so....LIBERATING! Finally I have people underneath my aching feet! Finally I can ditch hard orders and tell...say... "Ian" to come bag for me. Things are really starting to come around. Especially since people really like me there. Josh and Justin are kinda creepy but we get along fine. I know how to joke in guy language, a skill only few girls aquire. And the older workers like me too, we make fun of eachother well. Jamie likes me, and she's nice. The other girls?.... not so much. Girls are finicky creatures I say. I'm even remembering my customers so I can say, "How'd that fajita recipe go?" or "How's the cats?" or "How old is Olivia now? 3 months?" So ya, things are really coming along. And the job gives me great characters. Like the woman who keeps her wallet in her bra, or the mom/local porn star or the cute courtesy clerk who taught me how to clean the bathrooms my first day. His name is Jesse. But I haven't seen him for a while. He's really nice and polite and knows God! We talked about Younglife one time. He seems very likely to be an option in the future. Far future. Unlike the other guys who work there. Believe me, always be careful before you go in the back room. I swear, Josh and Justin loom back there to prey on bagger girls. Looking for action among the yogurt pallets. How romantic. Would make for a good story though. If I were that desperate. Which I'm not. Yet. But besides all that I have to quit. Weekdays at least. Homework is getting insane with two AP classes under my belt. I'll try only working weekends but I might have to quit entirely. Which will suck cuz I really need the money. To frickin live. Oh dear. Why do I have to live all of a sudden?

Hypothesis 3: Life is brighter when you're outside.

I think it was good for me to get outside. Mom and I went to the Summer Market and got a peach cobbler, which was sterotypically delicious. The walk was good excerise for us to live in our new roles since Britt's going to college. Just me and Mom. Its a strange and inevitable, laughing at when we didn't know much.
...
(What I wrote today in the back of the Scarlet Letter)
The skate park behind the Boys and Girls club was newly remodeled. I took my seat on the grass aside. What brought me here was the reluctantly accepted task to babysit the"it" kid of Edmonds. Rich parents, football team, golden lab, and a girlfriend to awe over his 10 year old muscles. "You can just sit over there," he said and headed into the cement course of cool. I often imagine about the concept of childhood, something I too early had to leave behind. The assurance of a mom ther for you, ripping apart bananas, motioning to come inside. The brightness of a new day, entirely clear for three-wheeler journeys and juice box dreams... But its getting late and the park closes soon. There's less and less places to skateboard as the sun goes down.

Hypothesis 2: God knows what He's doing...right?

Ahh, the familiar taste of Key Lime Yoplait. It reminds me of spending time at Kendall's house while Billy hung out with all his buddies. I guess they were my friends too. Naturally. But I'd always end up grabbing a Key Lime Yoplait and retiring to the couch's arm rest while they played hours of Halo. Key Lime Yoplait was my boyfriend while Billy was busy, Key Lime Yoplait was always there in Kendall's fridge. And now that I no longer have Billy, I have a craving for Key Lime Yoplait. Every morning. Such as this.
Don't get me wrong, I don't regret breaking up with Billy. That has been the greatest leap of faith I've ever taken. Because I didn't want to. God kept telling me to let him go, let him go, let him go. And I said NOOOO. But suddenly our relationship didn't mean anything. The kisses, the calls, nothing. Because God had left it. And I felt God in our relationship the strongest, on August 31st 11:45pm. Cuz thats when I took God up on his command.
So we ended our 16 month relationship, and reasurred eachother God had bigger plans for both of us if we follow them (Billy was getting the breakup nudge from God too). So that was that.
And this is this. I thought it was going to be easy seeing him at school but I can't. I can't even look at him. A flood of the best memories I've ever had comes with one glance of his smile and instead of pursing my lips and turning away, I smile too. And I can't help it. It's not that I don't want him back.. Well, kinda. I want God to want us to be back. And God's a hard one to argue with. So school drones on and we are like wrong ends of the magnet that can never come together, always stearing clear of eachother, with a once single heart.
I want to stop cryiing over things I cannot change. I want to know what God meant by this. Because its too hard, and too breaking. But its times like these when God gives you Key Lime Yoplait and tell you to hang on just a little longer.

Hypothesis 1: An idle artist is dangerous.

It's late on a Friday night. Well, not that late. 11:00. But the laptop is the only light and Ben Gibbard is singing trippy melodies through its tinny speakers. So it just feels late. Britt and Mom have already gone to bed and I've been left downstairs in a contemplative mood, which is quite dangerous in itself. It's when I'm in these moods that I squint at the night and chew pencils between my teeth in order to see life as it is. And most times, I seem to find it. Writing is what gets me along, hense the title. See, I've found the conclusions to life's mysteries is when you gather your data. And the rest of the scientific process doesn't mean a thing. All you need is to gather data. Just gather it and hold it close.