A Jitterstory

Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a place called Jitterland, there journeyed a young girl with changing hair and sparkling blue eyes. She discovered the Jitterways and learned the Jitterwalk and the Jittertalk. She loved Jitterland. As with any land there were times of peace and times of... not so much peace.

But more than the Jitterwalk and talk were the Jitterbuggers. They represented all that was good in Jitterland and made the girl feel welcome and safe. The girl spent many days with them laughing, swapping Jitterstories and communicating telepathically with the Jitterelders who called frequently to check up on the Jitterbuggers to acertain their Jitterworthiness. Without Jitterworthiness, a Jitterbugger could not pass from existence into the cubiclevoid where the Jitterelders dwell which was the ultimate form of life; it was a place every Jitterbugger wished to arrive one day. At times there were harsh words spoken from the Jitterelders but all in the name of Jitterbetterment, to be sure.

This telepathic communication tested the Jitterbuggers and placed them through simulations to weed out the weak from the strong. There were numerical tests, comprehension tests, navigation tests, and most difficult of all - Jitterlanguage tests. The Jitterlanguage twisted and turned and at times tested the Jitterbuggers to the edge of their mental copacity. Certian dialects slurred words together making them near impossible to differenciate. It was quite the undertaking for the girl when she began her lessons. She thought she would never be able to understand some of the Jitterelders. As she struggled and practiced and tuned her ears in, she found that she understood more and more each day. Soon she even began to speak the very basic forms of Jitterlanguage.

The more she understood the more she wanted to understand and yet something just didn't seem right. She kept up with her lessons and tried not to think about the feeling in her gut that something was about to change. She walked around Jitterland running into all the Jitterbuggers she'd grown to love during her time in Jitterland but something just didn't fit. She was happy wasn't she? Then why did she still have that feeling in her gut.

One day the Jitterbuggers surprised the girl by putting her photograph up in town square and giving her a balloon car to drive. She was so happy she had stumbled into this land and for all that she had learned and seen there.

One morning the girl woke up and saw in her mind's eye that she was standing at a crossroads. The choice was hers: she could keep on her current course - remaining in Jitterland - or to take road to the left - a road that led away from Jitterland into a distance unforseen future.

She knew what she must do.

Leave Jitterland? But why? For what? What was there out there in the great Beyond? Would there be something better than Jitterland? Her photograph was in town square, she had just started mastering Jitterlanguage... and yet... she knew. There was something more out there for her. Jitterland had given her many wonderful things she could use to ward off the faces of evil while she was away. And the Jitterbuggers...they would be alright. Even as the girl was making preparations for her departure there was talk of change. Maybe they would even change the name of their land - CallGreatLand was creeping in more and more.

The girl wondered if she should tell anyone of her departure. There were many Jitterbuggers she had not seen for many phases of the moon and even more she had only known for a few days; she wondered if they would want to know of her quest.

A Jitterblurb she decided to leave. Those who wished to read it could and those who wished she'd have left sooner were free to rejoice. It is recorded here for any to read who may desire to do so:

A Jitterblurb

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Just because I'm leaving
Doesn't mean I don't love you.

One Art
Elizabeth Bishop
The are of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of loosing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next to last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.



The girl wrote her blurb and left it on the table near town square the night before her expected migration. She crossed her fingers as she drifted off to sleep. She hoped the best for her friends, the Jitterbuggers, and couldn't help but hope the best for the left-bound road ahead.

A Break in the Equilibrium

I finally feel like things are getting back to normal. What a relief. After the accident – some people refer to it as an accident, some as an incident... I prefer not to refer to it as anything at all – it felt like things would never settle down and that I was doomed to walking on egg shells for the rest of my existence. Thankfully though it's settling and hopeful one day it really will be nothing.

All this time walking on egg shells had made me think though. What does it mean for life to “get back to normal”? And is that really what I mean that I want? In your life should you ever want for things to be “normal”... what ever normal is...?

Do you ever wonder if you're becoming complacent in your life? Why do we always want things to be comfortable and easy... normal? Would it not be better to be a little uncomfortable at times to promote growth and development. Is it wrong to not search for an equilibrium in life but rather to search for the next break in the equilibrium?


_____________________________________________________________________________________

What do you say to people when they prefer not to be talked to. When all you want is to be in their life, yet them seem not to care if you're there or not. What do you say? It would be nice to believe that in their silence they really do want you to talk to them but what if they don't. What if you want so badly to be in someone's life but they truly don't want you there? You just give up and walk away? But why wouldn't they want you there?

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Just to say hey.

You're not there.

You say nothing to me.

So I thought I would write

Just to say hey.

You may respond

You may not.

But at least I know

I did my part.


Dial tone

Ring ring

Ring ring

Ring ring

Ring ring

Beeeeeep

Voice mail

Recording

Click

Shut

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Goodnight, dear void.

Pick up the Phone

Dial tone

8 0 1

8 5 1

0 1 1 3

Ring ring

Ring ring

Ring ring

Ring ring

Beeeeeep

Voice mail

Recording

Click shut

A Blog on Marriage

I just finished watching Laws of Attraction with Pierce Brosnan and Julianne Moore and I sa-wooned. The first thing I did after that last credit ran and I could pull myself up off the coach was run into the Study to get on Amazon and buy the movie. The shipping cost me more than the movie itself but it is well worth it.

That is the kind of love I want. I remember trying to explain it to a friend last summer. It's the look of love. When a man looks at a woman and you just know... whether she knows it or not... that he loves her. And when she’s not around and he gets that half smile and you know he has to be thinking about her. – The Look of Love.

I want that. When I fall in love - whenever that ends up happening - I want it to happen like that. I hope to high heaven I'm not as blind and idiotic as Julianne (bless her heart) but even if I am I want it to happen like that. I want my future someone to be attracted to me so much that everyone knows it when I walk in the room and he just can't take his eyes off of me.

It is so easy to get caught up in the drama that is dating in Provo, Utah in all it's glamour and glory. And yet love really isn't that complicated. It's all in the look. I'm sure that most people who watched this movie or who will watch it in the future found it cheesy and predictable (aka my father :) ) but I love the way he looks at her. The way he is so in love with her every action and her every word. He is intrigued by her. When he looks at her you can see in his eyes that he wants to spend every moment with her because he knows it would be better with her than without her. He wants to marry her. I want to be mysterious... predictable only to a point. Predictable enough for him to be able to know what to get me for Christmas and Birthdays and the in between present giving days (my mother taught me about those) but mysterious enough for him not to know if I'm going to ask him to hold my hand while we go skydiving or while dance out under the stars one night.

People keep telling me that I probably will marry someone quieter than I am - someone more mellow in order to balance out my personality. I used to get so upset by that because - yes, I could be happy with that but at the same time it still felt like settling. I wanted a man who could sweep me off my toes and who would keep me guessing as well. Someone outgoing and funny who would drag me out of the house at any given moment to dance in a thunder storm at the height of its raging. Maybe someone even more outgoing than I am. But maybe that's not what is most important after all. Tonight I don't care either way. As long as he has the look of love in his eyes when he looks at me. That is all that matters.

After all, it's all in the look.

On top of and even more than the look though is the meaning of those rings on your left hand after you promise to love and cherish one another from that point forward. I'm terrified of divorce. I will openly admit that. It scares me to the core. It can be devastating and heartbreaking and it makes me cry. As a result I can often become terrified of commitment and at times I have a hard time letting people in and trusting them with me on the most basic of levels. Marriage has been a scary and daunting and over talked subject for years to me. And yet after I finished watching Pierce love Julianne marriage wasn't so scary anymore. And those rings meant more than potential hurt and tears. They were the symbol of hope, of love, and of mutual commitment to a better future - a together future. They were more than just metal on a phalange – they were the beautiful outward expression of the inward unity they had with one another and the underlying commitment to one another that bound them wherever they were.

I, Abby Holyoak, do in fact someday want to get married. I want to have a man put a piece of metal on my fourth phalange on my left hand so everyone will know that I promised to love and cherish him and only him and I want to put a piece of metal on that same number phalange on his left hand so everyone knows he promised back. And when we look at each other, I want to have the look of love.

Goodnight, dear void.

"By the way, I can preach to you... I'm a minister..."

I work at a call center with a headset. And somedays I love it and somedays I really hate it... the headset mostly not the job. There is just something totally fulfilling after getting yelled at for 15 min by Sister Farrer about how Customer Service shouldn't have to ask her so many questions when the operators don't have to and they shouldn't be so mean to people becuase they never know when their last day may be... by the way she can preach to me because she's a minister... and she just wants me to dial her voicemail to take down the number for her brother's cell phone that she refuses to put in her phone list no matter how often she calls in for him to be able to hang up an acutal hand set to say you are finally finished with The Beast. Sigh. Click.

Goodnight, dear void.

P.s. This same minister is the woman who calls in every day only to set curses upon us who are lying White Devil members of the KKK who hang up on her and are nothing but rude. I'm not white though... she refers to me as the black girl.... and then calls us racist. Hmmm.... Heaven bound for sure. Bless her heart.

The Blink of An Eye

She looked around frantically scanning the crowd for his face. He said he would be there. She looked back and forth expectantly until finally... there. To the left and back four or five people. He was scanning back looking just as frantic as she felt. Their eyes met and smiles appeared on their faces simultaneously as they realized the person they'd been searching for was there in front of them searching too. He pushed through the crowd and grabbed her in a headlock and gave her head a good rubbing before letting her go and wrapping her in a giant bear hug. Two years is a long time to go without seeing your best friend. Life happpened to both of them and soon it was two years and several letters later and here they were... like nothing had changed at all and not a day had gone by. She'd dreamt of this day every day of those two years and couldn't believe it was actually there in front of her. It had seemed like an eternity and in a way it had been. Standing there in his arms she was grateful that it was in that moment with him to hold her up that she truly understood just how much she had missed him while he'd been gone. She wondered if he felt her knees give out. She sent a silent prayer heavenward that this moment would last another eternity.

His heart jumped as he met her eyes and felt her smile reach him from across all those people. How was it that she hadn't changed one bit since he'd left? Sure, her physical appearance had been altered slightly by time but looking into those eyes he knew in her soul she was the same.... better than before but familiar and old at the same time. It felt like it took an eternity to push his way through the crowd to get to her. Two years was a long time to be away from your best friend and he'd missed her every day of that two years. He had to pinch himself to make sure it wasn't another one of his dreams tricking him into believing that he got to have her in his life again. So many times varations of this scene had played out in his subconcious mind... but he'd always found himself looking up at the ceiling just before he reached her. Afraid this would meet the same end he had to smile when he felt the pain of his action reach his cerebral cortex. She was really there wanting to see him as much and he wanted to see her. He grabbed her and wrapped her in the biggest bear hug he could muster. He felt her knees buckle and sent a silent prayer heavenward that she wouldn't feel the tear drop on her shoulder. He'd missed her so much. Holding her their in his arms he hoped this moment would last a little longer than usual.

Stepping back they looked into each other's faces and saw the tears forming in each other's eyes. They chuckled at this moment they were in, grateful to again be sharing it face to face. Another hug, tear, and chuckle and they were on their way away from the crowd. As they walked they both let the cups of their lives spill into one another's sharing experiences and memories from the years apart. And it was like he'd never left. Talking about all this time apart and yet it felt like yesterday that they were shooting hoops talking about his departure. He'd been nervous and a bit apprehensive about the journey. She'd been heartbroken and lonely already. He shot and missed. She shot and scored. They blinked. And there they were playing pool and picking up right where they'd left off. Two years was a long time to miss your best friend. It had been an eternity and the blink of an eye. And now it was over. He shot and missed. She shot and scored. They blinked.

Gary C Webb

I get attached to people. Ask my roommates. I really do. People who I see randomly one time and never again. Or people who I see regularly who just astound me and amaze me for one reason or another. Typically I'm so intimidated by them that I can't bring myself to talk to them until several months after discovering them for the first time. I just love them. I idolize them for the things they do without even considering that anyone has noticed them doing it. And they make my world a better place just by being in it.

First was Nathan.

Then Keith, Rose, and Michelle.

And today... Gary C Webb.

Nathan I met on the bus my freshman year. I saw him walking to the bus and my heart went out to him. He has some sort of physical disability that makes it extremely difficult to walk. And watching him broke my heart. I remember distinctly walking behind him one day and offering a silent prayer in my heart of gratitude for my legs and for the ability to walk without pain or hardship and also a prayer for Nathan that he would be blessed for his endurance. I could only imagine how hard it was for him to get anywhere. And yet there he was walking to the bus, getting off and walking to UVU to get an education. I admired his quite dedication and determination to succeed. I never once saw him hesitate or complain about his physical disabilities. He always just pushed onward. Many times I saw him hurrying to the bus stop sweat streaming down his face and yet he went forward. He amazed me day after day without fail. When I finally started talking to him I was astounded at his character ever further. He was recently married and trying hard to get into the music program. He taught me a lot about really chasing your dreams. I enjoyed our conversations and looked forward to sitting and chatting with him every day on my way home. Nathan made me thankful for the blessings in my life and made me want to strive to live everyday in gratitude never taking those blessings for granted.

Keith was an old man in my American Lit class fall semester sophomore year who I just thought was darling. He had to be 80 years old and he came to every class with his anthology in hand, read, and willing to discuss whichever piece we were inspecting that day. I loved him. I loved the idea of still being at University when I was 80 and of still stretching the corners of my mind and thinking about literature in all its depths. There were several times that I wanted to talk to him. To ask him his story and I just couldn’t. I admired him too much and thought myself too much beneath him to talk to him. It sounds completely ridiculous and silly but I promise that’s how I felt. One day we happened to be in the same discussion group and I loved his ideas about the poem we read and his view on the world of literature. It was a fabulous day in my life. Keith created gratitude in my soul for education and for Universities where one can come to study and improve. Keith made me want to be an eternal student - forever expanding the reaches of my intellect and increasing the well of my knowledge.

Rose was a guest I met at Jo Anns during the holiday season sophomore year. Every time a new coupon came out she was there buying another two spools of ribbon to make her grandchildren’s Christmas presents. For months I knew that I could expect her to come in once a week until she’d purchased each and every one of her grandchildren their spool of ribbon which would help her complete their Christmas surprise. I loved her patience and diligence. I have helped many guests in my time at Jo Anns and only a few have stuck out to me. Rose was one of them. I remember specifically one night her explaining her grand financial plan… She told me that everywhere she went she always paid in cash so she would be sure she always indeed did have funds for her purchase and also so she could save her one dollar bills. When she wrote down her expenditures she would put down $5.00 even instead of $2.57 so she wouldn’t miss the extra dollars. Then she would put the dollar bills away for a rainy day. You wouldn’t believe all the things she told me she bought with her dollar bills when those rainy days stormed down upon her family over the years. I have never forgotten that advice and have been much more conscientious about where and how my dollar bills leave me. Rose taught me to plan for the future because you can’t always see the storm until the thunder rolls and it is too late. I always wished I could thank her for her advice and tell her how much it meant to me that she was always so willing to be like my own grandmother to me whom she did not even know. And then one day I got a new job working at Jitterbug and there was Rose. We have since had many conversations about life and love and I have discovered again that I want to live a life of service.

Michelle. I don’t even really have words for her sometimes when I try to describe her. She just is Michelle. I met her at Jitterbug this last semester. I work a random morning shift on Saturdays and started talking to her some then but didn’t really know how unbelievably incredible she was until she switched to the night shift. She is one of those people you meet only a few times in your life who for whatever reason you just click with. I love her. More than I love several if not most of the people in this world. She is divine. She has to be the daughter of a King. That is the only explanation I could see making sense for Michelle being Michelle. You can just tell in the way she carries herself. In the way she listens to others and talks to them about their lives. She makes you want to be a better person just by being around her. She never has to say anything – you just see her quietly pressing onward and want to try a little harder to reach your own potential. She inspires you and instils in you the power and desire to grow. I feel so unworthy to be her friend and yet I never want to imagine my life without some form of contact with her. She reminds me of Glinda the good fairy in that she just makes you believe that all your wishes and dreams really can come true and then somehow she shows you just how you can make them so. Our late night talks have really helped me rediscover who I am and who I can be. I believe in myself because Michelle believed in me first.

Gary C. Webb called in today and I loved him in an instant. He called me so he could be sure that upper management got the message that James in Detroit Customer Service was an asset to our company and that he was so extremely patient and kind to Gary that he really felt he should be recognized for it. He wanted to emphasize that too often the only feedback anyone gets about their employees is negative because someone was in a bad mood that day. So he wanted to be sure to set some good feedback in motion for James. What a sweet man. He said he’d already been speaking with James’ supervisor but that he was cut off and just wanted to be sure everyone knew about James’ outstanding work. He took a good 15 – 20 min out of his day just to be sure that someone else was given the credit and applause that they deserved. He didn’t have to do it and yet he was more than happy to. Towards the end of the call he asked my name again and I told him it was Abby. He told me that was a beautiful name and inquired if it was short for Abigail. I told him it was not but that secretly sometimes I wished it was really Abigail because I love LOve LOVE the name Abigail. He told me to go down the courthouse and change it if it didn’t cost too much. He told me to go out and get my name. It wasn’t my full name or my last name so it shouldn’t hurt my parents too much but that I should do that little thing for myself. It was such a cute old man thing to say. We chatted a bit longer and I got off the phone more grateful for my own name and more grateful to be me. Gary taught me that I am more than a name and that we all need to do a little something extra for ourselves from time to time. And if we can, take a few min out of our day to pass on a kind word about a fellow human. Pay it forward.

There are so many more people like this who have come in and out of my life whom I have loved so very deeply. Some I have never even talked to but have just loved and admired from afar, grateful to God that they exist in the world and for that moment that they existed in my life. You just may be one of these very people to someone out there is this vast universe and you don’t even have a clue. I pray in my heart that I can be this kind of person to just one other someone in my life. That would mean the world to me and make my life complete.

Extraordinary people are all around us every day. Do we take the time to notice them or are we too busy in our own lives to take but a moment to be grateful for someone else? Taking the time to see these people in my own life has enriched and blessed my life in so many ways. I pray this childlike love and admiration stays with me throughout the rest of my years to continue to buoy me up and make me stronger.

Thank you to all the Nathans, Keiths, Roses, Michelles, and Garys who make this world and the people in it better just by being apart of the life around them. You are all divine.

Goodnight, dear void.

The Truth About Forever

When I was a little kid in high school I remember wanting to finish all sorts of reading lists each year to put on my college transcripts as something I had done in my spare time that was worthwhile and intellectual. I'm not sure I ever actually read all the books so much as checked them all out of the library and then paid the fines for them and gave them back several months later.

Out of all those books there is only one that managed to stick with me over the years. And sadly enough I'm not even certain I would have read it had my older sister not picked it up over Christmas break and loved it. It took me a good 6 months to follow suit and read it. I received my own copy of the book that Christmas and have been reading it ever since.

I just picked it up again last week and am amazed how much I can still relate to it. I haven't read it for several years as moving and life have called my attention to other things. I was afraid that I would read it and be disappointed and that it wouldn't mean as much to me this time around as it had back then. Back then I hadn't neccessarily been a Macy but I'd had a Wes. His name was Jordan Johnson and oh how I loved him. Sa-woon! He was my best friend and the one with whom I'd shared all my truths. I wanted more than anything for us to end up together, but we fate would not have it so. I remember reading the ending so many times and relating directly to Macy and Wes and understanding completely their situation.

Now I have no Wes and I have become Macy. So strange how the tables have turned. Not only do I see myself more as a Macy this last year but I also have more of a Jason in my life than a Wes. How is it that I've regressed? I feel as though I'm relearning things I remember knowing before. Things that as a 15 year old I didn't struggle with and yet things that as a 20 year old I've forgotten. Silly, silly, silly. Not only did I feel so much like Macy Queen but all around me things keep happening almost straight from the book. It's been an interesting week filled with so many things all around me reminding me that "forever (is) so many different things. It (is) always changing, it (is) what everything (is) really about. It (is) twenty minutes, or a hundred years, or just this instant, or any instant I (wish) would last and last..."

Reading this book now and really thinking about myself in terms of Macy has made me see my life is a new and strange way. It has made me really think about what I want my forever to be. I find myself wondering what it is I would do - right now - if I could do anything.


The beautiful thing about forever is that I, as Macy did, can move on beyond the past. I can change. What has happened does not make the future set in stone.

I can feel myself standing at a giant crossroads in my life. I've been standing
here afraid to make a choice and afraid to move. But it is time. Time to change. Time to accept all that has happened and move on to all that is yet able to occur. I have the choice to continue down the same path, unchanged from the events of this last year or I can start down a new road and alter the current course of my life. It is up to me. I have the power to choose my own forever. Which makes me think of Emerson... or is it Thoreau? ... It's Emerson... "What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us. And when we bring what is within us out into the world, miracles happen." I'm not asking for miracles.

But it is time to follow my own Wish.

"There (is) only one truth about forever that really matter(s), and that (is) this: it (is) happening. Right (now), and every moment afterwards. Look, there. Now. Now. Now."

Goodnight, dear void.

What About Bob?

Have you ever seen the movie What About Bob?
If you haven't - stop now and go watch it - or at least go to YouTube and type in What About Bob Dinner Scene.
This is how I feel about my life.
MMMmmmmmmmm... MMmmmmMMMMMmmmmmmMMMMMMMm.... MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

This is how I feel about the past two years and about the upcoming year. My third year living in Provo, Utah - a place I never wanted to live and cannot seem to live without anymore. MMMMmmmm. The more I think about everything that has happened and all that is to come all I can think is MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmMMMMMM!

I'm becoming concerned that I will never again be able to express myself without an MMMMmmmm.

Goodnight, dear void.

Building Forts

I'm moving out of my house this week. My house that I've lived in for 2 years. My house that has really become more of a home than a house. The girls who have lived in this house with me have become my dearest friends. We've laughed together and cried together. We've been through the best of times and the worst of times. We've screamed about spiders and argued about the dishes. We've composted and hung our laundry out on the line. We've gone on walks, driven warp 5 to church, and taken time to sing Kumbaya on the front sidewalk at 1am. We've danced in the rain and swung endlessly on our sideyard swings. We've played Donkey Kong and Disney Skate Boarding on my PS2. We've made pear cheese pie for breakfast and more shapecakes than most. We've had small parties and blow out parties. We've lived separate lives and pushed the couches up against one another becuase we couldn't handle being apart. I've loved it here.

And then there are the boys around the corner who have managed to become some of my dearest confidants. How did I get so lucky as to be able to have such wonderful boys in my life caring about me and loving me. They have seen me through more than they will ever know and I think that's one of the reasons I love them the most. Even though the boys living in that blessed house have changed as the winds of time have blown, every boy who has lived in that house has touched my life in some way big or small and probably without even trying or meaning to... just because they are them. When I didn't know where else to turn with dissapointements and short comings, with saddness, sorrow, heart ache, frustration, or me they were there. I remember one night being so sad and wanting so badly for someone to make it better. I texted Greg that I wanted to talk to him but didn't want to come in his house because I'd been crying and I didn't want to talk to anyone else. Greg told me to come over because he was the only one home so no one else would see me and we could talk. I trusted him and went over only to have Chandler come down from his room and Evan wander in in his bathrobe. Ha. What a good memory. They loved me despite the mascara stains down my face, don't worry. They were worried about me and offered shoulders to cry on and hairs on heads to play with to distract me. And I loved each of them a little more in turn as a result becuase they'd loved me when I needed it most. Understood when I felt no one could and sent me home knowing that in them at least I had friends. And in that moment I learned that it's okay to let people in.

Greg, Wills, Robbie, Evan, Chandler, Aaron, Gordon, Lance, Collin, Justin, and even Byran. There are 11 girls in this world who I am or will be very happy for and little jealous of. Bless my heart.

So many people in the last two years who have walked in and out of my life. And I have been so grateful. And I will continue to be grateful for the men and women who have been apart of my learning and growing experience in 187 E 200 N. They have seen me becoming whoever it is that I will become someday. And they have been apart of that becoming. They have added and taken away attributes and parts of me that have molded and shaped a better me than would have been without them.

I'm moving this week. But I'm taking these places, people, and experiences with me. I'm moving on but not leaving them behind. They are apart of me and without them I feel I would cease to be me. Instead of packing I tell Sarah that I'm building forts in my room and that is why I have boxes all over and why I've been spending so much time in there alone. Not packing. Building forts. And as I sit here blogging in the middle of the mess that is building forts I can't help but think that with these people and these things that I'm taking with me I'm simply building a new fort on the west side of the freeway on Center Street in Provo, Utah. A fort built out of the best building materials - memories, friendship, and love. And in that fort across the freeway there will be new memories and new people just as there were in my fort at 187 E 200 N. It has just come time to build a new fort so I can build a new me. A me that has a foundation clearly marked 187 E 200 N in big, bolded numbers and letters so as to help me remember where I came from and who I am.

Thank you 187 E 200 N. You have changed my life.

Goodnight, dear void.

187 E 200 N

I made blondies today.
Missing old friends and remembering the past.

I made blondies today.
Watching as I didn't believe the mixture would turn out.

I made blondies today.
Having faith that the ingredients would make a delicious blend.

I made blondies today.
Dancing around the kitchen with a wooden spoon.

I made blondies today.
Imaging all that the future holds for me and my life.

I made blondies today.
Finding peace in the familiar words and actions of me.

I made blondies today.
Wondering about love and about an unseen home.

I made blondies today.
Hoping for the best and crossing my fingers it would be better.

I made blondies today.
Clearifying butter and sifting flour to perfection.

I made blondies today.
Realizing that if nothing ever changed, no flower would ever bloom.

I made blondies today.
Accepting that sometimes the only way to really live is to get messy.

I made blondies today.
Just trying to get it right... whatever that means.

I made blondies today.
Loving the home and the life I have made here - 187 E 200 N.

12:12 Make a Wish.

A Dreamer

She laughed. The sound was like music to my ears. It had been years since Dad died and yet Mom still found it hard to throw her head back and laugh the way she once had. She'd deny this fact in a heartbeat if she were asked but fact it was nonetheless. She was sad still.

Dad had been her best friend. They'd gotten divorced a good 5 or so years before he died but they still cared deeply for one another. Mom would never admit it, but
they could have stayed married. They would have. But by the time Dad had decieded to put any work into their marriage Mom was already packed up and gone.

Dad was a dreamer. He always had the most beautiful dreams about the future and about how life would be ... tomorrow. It was his dreams that had first attracked Mom to him. He wanted to try his hand in everything. Leave not a stone unturned. Mom loved listening to him tell her about all the wonderful things their future had in store. And Dad would tell for hours and hours on end and every dream ended with Mom and Dad in a dream home with a dream job and a dream life. Mom still claims that Dad died from a broken heart the day he realized his dreams wouldn't come true.

Mom had her own dreams of stability and security. They weren't her dreams to begin with and she didn't realize they would become hers when her wild heart joined with the dreamer's that warm summer night so many years ago. At the beginning she went along with everything Dad said, following where he led and standing firm by his side through the good times and the bad. She always thought that Dad's dreams would be enough to sustain the family and to carry her through. But they weren't. In the end she needed more. She needed a roof over her family and bread to eat. Not to mention new shoes for me and Sis to look our best on Sundays. Dad wanted to give her the world. He wanted us to have everything we wanted. And yet we didn't.

It hit Mom hard when Dad died. We weren't sure if it was an elaborate scheme set up by Dad to get us together again and pull a giant GOTCHA! It wasn't though. Dad didn't jump out of the closet laughing histerically and point to our faces. He lay quiet and still in the coffin Mom picked out - deep brown, sturdy oak, lighter in some areas, almost wispy looking... like a dream about to form. I still remember picking out the clothes he would wear and who would sing the song. We let Angeline talk about his life and his dreams. They were too close to Mom and too far from me.
The service was beautiful. It was filled with all the dreams Dad could have possibly thought up. The flowers offered hope against the dreary backdrop of sadness on everyone's faces. Mom cried harder and longer than I expected her to. She really loved that man.

I wasn't sure what Mom would be like without Dad. They'd always been a unit - even after the divorce. Part of me expected them to get back together but they never did. Whenever I mentioned it Mom always moved on with the conversation never letting herself dwell on the thought for very long. I knew she missed him. I knew she longed to crawl into his arms again and for him to whisper his dreams in her ears. But she couldn't anymore. She had to stand on her own two tangible feet. So I was surprised to see her at Dad's one morning about a month before the accident. She made it a point to never be with Dad alone so as to never go back on her decision. And yet there they were that morning. Making breakfast and laughing, and looking happier than they had in years. I rememeber wishing as I walked in that day that I could freeze that moment in time and save every ounce of happiness in a box so I could pull it out later and give it to Mom when things were back to the way they'd been for so long. I've long thought about that day and wondered if somehow they knew Dad's time was short and wanted to spend it together the two of them while they still could.

They always had a way of knowing when something difficult was coming in the other's life. They were always there when it happened, always the first to offer a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on. I never was able to understand it. I didn't have to understand it. It was how they always were and how I hoped they always would be. So it was no surprise when I heard that Mom had been the only one there when it happened. A massive heart attack. Somehow she knew and she was there. I hope every night that in those last few moments they shared together they were able to forgive one another and remember the love and laughter that had once brought them together. I'll never be brave enough to ask Mom. I just hope and pray.

Hearing her laugh again brought back so many memories of family vacations and adventuring in the middle of no where. I've been grateful all my life that fate joined those two hearts so many years ago for whatever reason it did. I choose to believe that they brought more love and happiness to one another than anyone else could have ever done. May Dad rest in peace and may Mom keep all that love and joy in her heart til the day she too passes through the veil and maybe even a little further beyond til she can be with Dad yet again.

And the dreams.

She laughed. The sound was like music to my ears.

From the Source to the Healer

He looked behind him and wondered if the past would ever let him go, or if he'd be haunted by his memories a lifetime over. He'd moved cities and towns trying to get away from the pain and the awful memory of what had happened there. And yet the pain, the agony - it was all still there. Ever present in the back of his mind. It didn't matter how happy he could become, it would still be there to ruin that happiness. If he succeed, the success would always be cheapened by the guilt. How could he ever look back and be at peace? Even if it hadn't been entirely his fault, what if it had been? Should something so terrible- so awful- ever be just one person's fault? Could it not be said that ultimately every problem, every story, every situation ultimately has two sides of the coin - of the blame - of the road? He had taken a road to lead him away from the pain, so he had thought. Yet, the pain seemed to be around every turn, every corner of this road - ahead, behind, to the right and the left. Maybe the pain was trying to tell him something, help him in some way. If he could not get past the idea that this was his fault he would never be able to see anything beyond that sorrow. Sorrow. His sorrow, for what had happened and for his place in the happened. If he had the chance to go back and change it, should he? Would he? He was finally looking back at the memories and seeing them in a different light - finally seeing beyond hurt and suffering to growth and light. Could light come out of such darkness? And yet, had it not? Was that not light at the top of this hill?
He looked back and in seeing his memories of the pain finally saw his true reflection in the looking glass...he was not longer at the source of the pain, but to the healer of it.
For him, it wasn't the road, but the Healer, that made all the difference.

Sometimes

Sometimes I think of you.

Sometimes I think of you and cry.
I wonder where you were when I needed a shoulder.

Sometimes I think of you and laugh.
Remembering all the funny things you used to say.

Sometimes I think of you and sing.
Trying to find a way to make it back to you.

Sometimes I think of you and give up.
You've been gone so long how could it ever be better.

Sometimes I think of you.

I don't know

When I was little, every year on my birthday I would wake up at the crack of dawn - around 4am -
and sneak out of the house and walk to my elementary school down the street. I would sit on the swings
and watch the sunrise. I would think about the year that had past and all the changes that had occurred.
Then as I sat and listened to the world waking up I would think about all the changes that would occur
in the coming year as I explored a new age and time of life. It was one of my favorite times with myself.
Sitting and listening while the world was still sleepy all around me. I also loved it because no one
knew about it. It was all my own. No one begged to come with me or was sad that I went alone. No one knew
if I went or stayed. As I grew older my trips to the swings grew more frequent as there was more to think
about and deal with than just growing older. I found myself reveling in the wee morning hours and living for
the time when I could be alone with the world again on my front steps. I lived in a small town so no cars
were driving down the road and no one ever entered my world as I sat and pondered. I loved it - just Abby and
the world. I could do anything and everything I wanted to. I was powerful and successful beyond belief.
I could conquer the world.

At some point I stopped believing that I could conquer the world. I stopped believing that I could do anything and
everything that I wanted to. Then I failed at the life I'd created because there was nothing to dream about and nothing to hold
myself in focus. I am currently waging war on the Abby of the present to force the Abby of the past through to the front lines
to defeat this world that is bringing her down. Rather maybe it in not a matter of battling the Abby's of different
times but uniting them in one purpose and one cause.

"Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men? It is the music of a people who will NOT be slaves again. When the beating of your heart echos the beating of the drums... there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes...."

Tomorrow has come.

Goodnight, dear void.

My Dreams

I had a dream last night.
You were there and so were they.
You told me I was a liar.
You called me names.
You said I would never become all that I dreamed of being.
You took my hopes and dashed them.

I had a dream last week.
They were there and so were you.
They told me I had to save them.
They said they would die if I did not render them aid.
They said all their hopes rested on my shoulders.

I had a dream last year.
No one was there.
I walked alone through the streets wondering.
I looked up and down every aly.
I searched through every nook.

I have a dream today.
We are all here.
We see each other beyond what we've seen before.
We look through one another to what is beneath.
We see the dreams of our hearts.
We make each other whole.

Freedom

I was asked to teach the lesson in Relief Society today on freedom. While I didn't connect the topic to the 4th of July until after 6 hours of deliberation and study, I did come upon it eventually. Ha. As I was studying and researching the topic and the concept of freedom I discovered that freedom is one of the governing principles of this world. We are free to choose what we may. No one can force me to do anything I do not want to do. What a blessing. I can choose for myself to be a good person, to have morals, and to follow Jesus Christ. No one is there shoving me into it. Especially now that I've grown up (not completely but a little bit...) and moved away from home I choose now more than ever what is in my life and what is not.

And yet, with that choice comes a consequence. So many choices in this world appear to come without consequence. Getting a credit card allows you to spend money you do not have and conceptually seems like you get to buy things without having to work for them and without immediate consequences for spending beyond your means. It would appear that with the social freedom to sleep with anyone you want Chasity is old fashioned and out dated. And yet both of these choices can lead to quite serious consequences. Yet the world is still advertising freedom without consequence, or freedom without responsibility. Which is so interesting to me because without consequence what is there to base your choices on? If it does not matter what you choose, is there really a choice?

The freedom the world offers is cheap and it falls short. In today's society you have the social freedom to have sex, to do drugs, to drink until you are unable to walk in a straight line. And the world says that all of these things are so fun and can make you so happy. And yet, I do not buy it. Because I know at least one person who does each of these activities on a regular basis. They feel free for a time. Which is all the world is selling - free for a time. I wonder if that is what they thought they were signing up for before they began - for a time. What a false freedom. They are free until their freedom turns to bitter addiction or painful regret. Without self discipline we are but empty vessels of self gratification. The world turns a cold place filled with only ourselves and our own emotions. A world with but me in it is a sad place to be sure. While I can make myself laugh sometimes and smile at my own cleverness other times, without the laughter of others and love towards them, my life would be more empty than I could even imagine it to be. What a sad world to live in. I see no freedom there.

It is only through self restraint and self mastery that we become free.

To put it a different way...

I believe in God.

I believe in a God who loves me enough to guide me to freedom. I believe in a God who gives commandments and doctrine that enable me to be more free than I could ever be without them. I believe in a God who directed the Founding Fathers and who brought about this land of freedom. I believe in a God who knows me by name and who is ever loving and ever watchful. I believe in a God who is involved in my life, happiness, and well-being.

I believe in a God who believes in true and lasting freedom.

Goodnight, dear void.

Sticky Lemons

Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money
Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on


My name is Abigail. Abigail Ridgely. And I'm running away.
What's the point? I keep thinking things will be different
this time. That things will change. And they aren't. And they don't.
So why stay here? Why be here? So I'm leaving.
It won't matter when I'm gone. A few people here and there
may notice my absense but it won't mean anything to them.
One more person to disappear from their lives. Soon enough
my position will be filled and one day they'll think, "What
ever happened to that girl? The one with the blonde hair? Did
she get married? What was her name anyway?..." And all I will be is
a memory. And I'm okay with that. Because in a week I won't even
remember their faces.

Life is what you make it. I've always believed that.
My mother was beautiful. She made the most wonderful lemonade out of
the most sour of lemons. And it worked for us. I'm just chosing to make
lemonade of a different flavor because the flavor I've made here is getting stale.
I thought once upon a time that my life would be glamourous and dainty.
It isn't. And I'm okay with that. I suppose not everyone's lives are dainty
all the time. Maybe I'm just in the slippery, sticky, very messy part of
my life that will pave the way for the dainty. Or maybe my life won't ever
be dainty. That's okay too I guess. Someone's got to have a non-dainty life and
if no one else can handle it I suppose it's up to me to take it on. Running away
is not the correct term I suppose.

My name is Abigail. Abigail Ridgely. And I'm moving on from the sticky.

Mr. Magness.

There is a customer who calls in on a very regular basis and asks to be connected with
different people on his phone list. He is a favorite among operators because before you
connect his call, if your patient he always says in the sweetest and most sincere old man
voice, "and thank you for heping me." (Heping not helping.) It makes all the people who yell at me or call me
stupid worth talking to just to get one call from him. Not sure who knew I needed it, but
I just got off the third call with Mr. Magness today. There is a note on his account that
says he often calls in and asks to be connected with random people in the nursing home.
Such was the case today I think. Each time he called, he asked to be read his list and then
would find a person he thought he should probably ring to check up on. He may or may not
be the sweetest man on the face of the earth. It broke my heart today as I read through
Mr. Magness' list and came to the name Tusome. As I read it and started to move on to see
who it was that Mr. Magness would decide to be connected with, Mr. Magness paused and said,
"Now that name, Tusome, that's my little brother. He died in June. Would you please take him
off my list?" It was so genuine and so sincere. I couldn't help but feel my heart ache for the
loss of this little brother. I deleted the record and told Mr. Magness to leave his phone on and
closed for 2-4 hours so that number would disappear. He said, "Tusome will be gone?" I almost
couldn't speak, "Yes, Mr. Magness, Tusome will be gone." I offered my condolences and expressed
my sorrow for his loss. I didn't want to move on but I had to. I finally read a name he thought
would be nice to ring and I put him through.
Before his calls I'd been thinking about a lot of inevitable changes that will be occurring in
my life in the next few weeks and months. I'm moving on. Changing. Finding something better than
what it is that I have. It will not be an easy change. But it is a neccessary one.
I have loved living in my house and have loved the people I have surrounded myself with.
I will miss the life that I have. And yet, I know that it is what I need to do. I don't know
where I'm going yet. Or really what it's going to be like.
Mr. Magness taught me though that there are always people to care about and always something
worthwhile. YOu just have to take the time to find it and to make it worthwhile.
Also when you judge a book by its cover you miss out on the book.

Goodnight, dear void.

You Probably Think This Song is About You

Today I woke up after sleeping for 13 hours and looked up my old middle school, high school, and elementary
teachers. They are all still working in the same schools in mostly the same job positions as
they were when I had them as teachers. That is so quaint to me. I love that they all still exist
in the same little world of District 428 in DeKalb, Illinois. I love that. My theater Professer
often talks about how everyone is the protagonist of their own story, even though in a given
viewpoint they may look small and insignificant. All of my teachers from Mrs. Larsen
in Kindergarton to Mr. Lapeyre in Junior Humanities are the main characters in their own life stories,
while they weren't anything huge in mine.

When I moved to Hong Kong in 2007, my whole life
changed and my world shifted. At times I feel like it changed so dramatically that nothing should
still exist of my old life. And yet, it goes on. Without me. As if nothing had ever changed at all.
Because for them, nothing did change. A student they taught for one year, who wasn't really memorable
beyond her being exceptionally loud and mormon, moved to Hong Kong probably without them even
knowing. And her life changed as a result. What was to change for them?

Quaint. And lovely. The world
functions without me. Weird. I've always known I was vain, but after this morning's realizations,
I feel like maybe it's time again for me to start praying for humility... or maybe it's time for
another hair cut...

Goodnight, dear void.

Thumbelina

It has been brought to my attention that some people do not believe my choice in movies is worth their time. Sad really. Bless her heart. This post is for you.

According to The New York Times this,is a list of all the movies I enjoy that are part of the 100 best children's movies of all time...
Thank you very much.

Beauty and the Beast
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
Emma
Fiddler on the Roof
Field of Dreams
The Great Escape
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
The Iron Giant
James and the Giant Peach
The King and I
A League of Their Own
The Lion King
The Little Mermaid
A Little Princess
Little Women
The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Mary Poppins
Monsters, Inc.
Mrs. Doubtfire
The Music Man
My Fair Lady
The Princess Bride
Raiders of the Lost Ark
The Rookie
The Secret Garden
Singin' in the Rain
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
The Sound of Music
Star Wars
Sullivan's Travels
To Kill a Mockingbird
Toy Story and Toy Story 2
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
West Side Story
Who Framed Roger Rabbit
The Wizard of Oz

Thumbelina may not be on this list, but I bet it was a close runner up, to be sure.

With love.

Goodnight, dear void.

Hmmmm.

Education and Training: Vocational/technical school; license

Salary: Median—$45,960 per year

Employment Outlook: Good

Definition and Nature of the Work
Funeral directors arrange funeral services and burials. They work in funeral homes, where bodies are kept until cremation or burial. Most funeral homes are small and owned by the funeral director. Some, however, have many employees. Funeral directors are sometimes called morticians or undertakers.

When funeral directors are notified of a death, they arrange for the body to be moved to the funeral home. They get the information needed for the death certificate and for the newspaper death notice, or obituary. They meet with the family of the deceased to discuss the details of the funeral service, including the selection of a casket. Funeral directors help the family to set the time and location for burial, arrange for a member of the clergy to conduct any religious services, and choose pallbearers. Once these plans have been made, funeral directors contact cemetery officials, the clergy, and the newspapers.

Funeral directors need to know about the funeral customs of various religious, ethnic, and fraternal groups. They must also be familiar with the laws dealing A funeral director is sometimes called a mortician or an undertaker. They need to know about the funeral customs of various religious, ethnic, and fraternal groups. They must also be familiar with the laws dealing with the handling of dead bodies. Since many funeral directors are also licensed embalmers, they may prepare the body for burial. They arrange the casket in a parlor and take care of lighting and flower arrangements. They stay in the parlor to greet and comfort the family and friends of the deceased and to make sure that the services run as planned. They also arrange transportation to the cemetery or crematorium for the family and pall-bearers. Funeral directors lead the funeral procession to the church or cemetery, where they may help direct the service. If burial is to be in another area, they oversee the preparation and shipment of the body.

Abby Holyoak Funeral Services and Inc

If you couldn't already tell, it's been a lottle difficult to focus tonight...
So for the better part of my shift I took an apptitude test for personality and career profiling.
After answering what felt like 3 billion questions (in reality 485), I learned that I am
~ Gregarious
~ Friendly
~ Assertive
~ With Poise
~ A Leader
~ Provocative
~ Self-Disclosed
~ Talkitive
~ Sociable
~ Intellectual
~ Concientious
~ ...

And more than that....

The 3 occupations I am most suited for are:

1. Funeral Director
2. Psychologist (clinical, school, or counseling)
3. Other counselors (educational, vocational, school, rehabilitation)

Funeral Director....

What does that even mean. Can anyone really see me as a funeral director?
Those poor people would probably kill themselves and join their relatives after suffereing through the funeral process with me.
Wow.
Bless my heart, I would be the worst funeral director in this world and the next.

I'm not sure if UVU offers a degree in Funeral Directives and Operational Procedures.
Either way, I think I'll stick to English and History Education.

Whoa baby.
Wow.

Goodnight, dear void.

WRITE. SPEAK.

WRITE.
WRITE ANYTHING.
WRTIE NOTHING.
WRITE IT ALL.
WRITE NONE OF IT.
WRITE.

SPEAK.
SPEAK WHAT YOU MEAN.
SPEAK WHAT YOU DO NOT MEAN.
SPEAK DIRECTLY.
SPEAK IN A CIRCLE.
SPEAK.

Sam

Once upon a time in a land far far away, there lived a boy. He was a handsome boy.
He was a prince. Or so they told him. He'd never felt like
a prince; always being told what to do
and where to go and just what he should be doing when he went. He'd never felt that his
life was his own. And now it was. It was a secret. One that ran to the very core of his existence.
He was no prince. If fact he was far from any kind of prince. They told him that princes were bold,
brave, and strong. They told him that princes grew up to be valiant Kings, nobly serving their
subjects with honor and valor and unwavering conviction. This boy was none of these things.
He knew nothing of valour and courage; of strenth or conviction. He really felt he knew nothing at
all. He knew this though - he was no prince. And he was running away. He was tired of all the lies,
all the secrecy; always pretending to be someone and something he was not.
He knew that the life he was living was no life at all. There had to be something
else out there. Something more than what he had now. So he packed up and left just before the break
of dawn. And he was gone. Never to be a prince again. Never to be told where to go and who to be.
He was his own. He learned to play the harp and played in an inn not 50 leagues outside his home kingdom.
And he made certain that no one knew he was once called, "your highness" and "prince". As he played,
as he lived, he learned of all the things he'd been told about. All that the
lessons and books had described. He married and had a few girls and learned what the word courage meant.
Living taught him that valour wasn't just for kings, it was for all people.
He learned that every boy could be a prince. What he thought he had to be in order to be a prince
had always been apart of him. He just hadn't known how to see it. It was as if the boy hadn't known
his own name. When he played then harp, when he went home at night, he knew his name.
One day the boy ventured back to his kingdom. Things hadn't changed much, but he had changed. He walked with conviction and honor; the look of bravery etched in his face and the gleam of boldness in his eyes. The King and Queen hardly recognized the boy who had left them so many years before. They had sent many valient Knights to look for the boy but none had ever returned with word of his whereabouts. When the boy had left, he'd been a boy. The boy returned now a prince and a man. They welcomed him back with open arms.

His fellow townsfolk had
always known that the boy was the runaway prince. And they'd known the boy's name all along.
They'd seen in him the prince he could have been and the man he always had been.
They knew he needed to find a way to see. They never called him "Your Highness" or
"Prince". They knew he would learn those names in time. They called him Sam.

Rome...Rome...Rome...

I'm finding that I spend a great deal of my time just thinking. Past, present, future... It doesn't really matter which of those I choose, thinking is done. I wish I were kidding when I say that some days I spend hours just sitting and thinking. Mostly I blame my adorable little sister for this past time. When Anne was little she used to not be able to sleep because she was thinking. No joke, she would spend a good hour or so starring at the wall, just thinking before falling asleep. She thinks and wonders about everything. When we were both younger, it used to drive me nuts. She had to ask questions about anything and everything all the time. Nothing was just accepted at face value. She had to know the why or how of it all. With growing into adulthood I have since ceased being annoyed with her inquiries and now admire the workings of her little mind. (Little - not noting the size but merely the age - comparatively - of her mind to my own or to ... the dinosaurs... ya, I should have stopped at dirt police.)I wish I didn't just accept the world around me but that I questioned and challenged it at every turn. Rome wasn't built in a day and hopefully there is still a chance for me to be like Anne.

Thankfully I now have a job where I get paid to do just that(...build Rome). Not that I get paid for the things I'm thinking because they are significant or profound... more that I now have the opportunity to sit in a cubicle for 8 hours, five of the seven days of the week. When I'm not studying or gabbing or otherwise filling my time, I just sit and think. My thoughts are sporadically interrupted by "Hello, thank you for calling Jitterbug"s but never for much more than 45 seconds. Then it's back to staring at Bekah's lovely colored pencil drawings and thinking more about:

my life and who it is that I would like to be someday,

or why it is that I'm currently in the emotional state that I am in,

or how it is that I've managed to screw up yet another set of relationships in my life without even meaning to or realizing it,

or which president was it that came after Jackson - Van Buren or Harrison?,

or which state is missing from the list this time - Mississippi or Kentucky?,

or who came up with the rules for naming bicarbonate sulfate and why is that the only organic compound I can remember?,

or why does the semi-creepy CS agent next to me have such a sexy voice?

or what do I need to bring on my trip to St. George?

or does semi-creepy CS agent man know I think his voice is sexy?

or where in the world DID my bandwagon go?

or how early do I really have to get up if I want to go to the gym tomorrow?

or why do I have NO desire to be in a relationship despite current situations being good and by all considerations the best prospects I've ever had?

or did Shopko have a matching necklace to go with those earrings and bracelet set I bought? Did I just miss it? What else can I wear with that? Pearls SO did NOT work!

...and so forth.

Now, I realize that this thinking isn't maybe as profound as some thinking, but I've come a long way.

Let's not lose focus here... Rome... Rome... Rome...

Ah phooey! It's all Greek to me anyways!

Goodnight, dear void.

East coast, Nevada

He laughed. It had been months since he'd felt this happy. He had known that the day would come when he'd finally be able to put things in the past but it had felt like an eternity to get to that place. So dumb. He still couldn't believe he'd gotten so upset. She hadn't meant what she'd said anyway so why did he have to make her feel so badly for it? It had been mostly his fault anyway. When you provoke a person into saying something, can they really be blamed for it? He'd been asking for it. And, boy, did he get it. It was the truth. They'd both known it the minute she'd let the words slip from her mouth. And then she was gone. For better or worse, they had stopped calling one another and eventually allowed themselves to drift apart. He might not even recognize her if she passed him on the street anymore. (He'd recognize her. How could he not?) And for what? A moment of stupid passion; aggression unmeant to hurt or linger permanently, like a scar on the beautiful face of their friendship. A friendship that was supposed to be so much more than just a friendship. And now... look where they were. Her - somewhere on the East coast and he - stuck in Nevada with no prospects of leaving and no ambition to follow the woman he secretly wished was still in his life. But she wasn't. Not today at least. And today was all he could live in. At least he could laugh again. He prayed she could too.

Feelings...Biznuz

Why your feelings gotta be all up in my biznuz?
I just trying to be friends and you go all whack on me?
What dat all 'bout?
Now we can't be no friends, dawg.
I say I no want to be lovers and you go a-wall.
Why your feelings gotta be all up in my biznuz?

Goodnight, dear void.

Disclaimer: I mean no disrepect to any reader. This is how my feelings chose to express themselves this evening. Please forgive. Peace and blessings.

On the Job

I recently just got hired at a company called Dialogue Marketing. The project I am specifically on is called Great Call, or Jitterbug.
Here's the gist of it...

Ring, Ring....

Me: Hello, thank you for calling Jitterbug, this is Abby. Am I speaking with Ruth?
Ruth: Yes this is Ruth. Are you there? Hello?
Me: Yes, mam, I'm here. How may I help you tonight?
Ruth: Oh, thank you hunny. I was just trying to call in and vote for American Idol but I can't seem to get the number to work. I have to vote before 10pm, you know. I really would like to vote but I just can't get the number to work.
Me: Okay... Would you like me to try to find the number you need to call to vote then?
Ruth: Oh! You can do that?! Thank you, dear. I would really appreciate it. I need to vote before 10pm, you know. Thank you so much.
Me:I'd be happy to. One moment while I pull up that number.
Ruth: Of course. Of course. Take your time. I was just to tickled by that young thing tonight and the number has always worked for me before but I just can't seem to get it to work tonight. And I have to vote before 10 0'clock otherwise she won't win, you know.
Me: Looks like I have a list here for all the contestants with their corresponding voting numbers. Which contestant would you like to vote for tonight?
Ruth: Oh no. I've forgotten the name. Oh no. I need to vote before 10 and I can't remember...
Me: Would you like me to read off the contestants they have listed here?
Ruth: Oh! Would you do that?! You are such a dear. Thank you.

After reading all the names and spelling each one...

Me: Do you know which contestant you would like to vote for, Ruth?
Ruth: Oh. You know, I think it's best if we vote for the first one.
Me: The first one I listed?
Ruth: Yes, yes. I have to vote before ten, you know. Thank you, hunny. Thank you.
Me: My pleasure. I'll go ahead and connect your call, and thank you for calling Jitterbug, Ruth. Have a lovely evening.
Ruth: Oh, thank you hunny. I just love that American Idol. Thank you so much. God bless you.
Me: Not a problem, have a wonderful night.
Ruth: You too, sweetie. You too.

Click.


I love it. I know some of you are reading this and thinking this would be the worst job in the world. I am really enjoying it.
Every day I come in and sit on the anti-social side of the cubicals for 5 or 6 hours and I study and practice being productive. Then during my last break I pick up and move over to the main isle of cubicles to talk to my peeps, Courtney, Loren, Brittany, and Alema. I really didn't know if I would like this line of work and was really worried after loving work at Jo Anns so much that I would hate working for Jitterbug. I was so wrong. As much as I could have hated it, I have loved it.

If you ever end up with a Jitterbug in your hand, dial 0 then Yes and you just might get a pleasant surprise. :)

Goodnight, dear void.

Sit it out? Or dance?

Dance.

I'm taking time in my life to just dance.

Who's watching? I have no idea.

Are they enjoying it? I don't care.

Dance.

It's about time.

From the blog of Abby Holyoak.

Goodnight, dear void.

Older. And Wiser too.

I did it. I woke up this morning and I was twenty. Painlessly, in my sleep, I slipped from teenager to adult in one foul swoop. No turning back. I might have forgotten that today marked my entrance into adulthood had I not been woken up by my loving older sister, Kaylee singing happy birthday to me very loudly.

And I had the most amazing day.

Woke up.

Brushed teeth.

Gathered crap and change of clothes.

Raced to school.

Made it to chemistry 6 minutes late.

Crawled over people to get to an open seat.

Was bored to death by professors lack of teaching pertinant and new information.

Fell over people to get to the isle to leave.

Talked me my wonderful parents instead of listening to the boring one.

Laughed a lot.

Tripped over feet and bags on my way back to my seat.

Exited chemistry... blessed event.

Bought a large hot chocolate from my favorite man on campus.

Sat in a booth and finished reading about the ratification of the Constitution.

Diagramed all the important details of the American War for Independence and events leading up to and away from.

Attended the best history lecture of all time.

Got 10/10 on my history quiz.

Sped excitedly to CPK to meet my family for a birthday lunch.

Had a blast eating food, and being a family. (Wish Derrick could have been there.)

Wore my Birthday hat and took photos.

Shared a free birthday sundae with everyone. (Only the women, actually...)

Drove non chalantly to work and changed clothes.

Called and woke up my little sister, Anne just to say "hi".

Recieved a "Birthday Girl" pin to wear from my manager.

Worked the easiest closing shift I've ever worked.

Made people laugh.

Wished Happy Birthday by majority of people and loved it.

Got off early because everything was done.

Drove manager home and ended up chilling with her and her roommate and home teachers for hours.

Much laughter and chatter.

Drove home and on the way stopped in to show the Doll House the new 20 updo.

Blogged feeling contentment in my soul about the year to come.

Hope.

Goodnight, dear void.

Parting Thoughts of a Nineteen year old girl

I'm turning twenty in less than three hours and I feel I must post once more to really close the book on Abby: The Teenage Years...

I get really anxious before my birthday. Huge anxiety is linked to age increases for me. I don't want to waste being any age. And when it gets to be January again I feel anxiety, inevitably, that I haven't truly fulfilled being the age I am currently; I've wasted being X years old - how can I possibly turn Y years old?!

To counteract this axiety, I've divised a system. I make a list of all the new, fun, crazy, etc things I've done while being any certain age. Last year I even took it far enough as to do something I'd never done before every night the nineteen nights leading up to my nineteenth birthday. This year, I did not have that much time on my hands. However I've still done a pretty good job at compiling a list of twenty listworthy things I've done while being nineteen. It truly helps relieve the anxiety in my soul knowing that I really have lived up to being nineteen. So much so that I need to turn twenty before other people start feeling bad about how much they did not fulfill while being nineteen. It's only fair that I move on to twenty. Ready or not, HERE I COME!!!

Twenty (Crazy) Things

1.Drank Coffee (ON ACCIDENT!)
2.Dyed my hair brown
3.Karaoke :)
4.Drove over 100 mph (Can you say... WHOOSH!...?)
5.Visited a ghost town (Twice, even)
6.Went on a bus adventure
7.Attended the Nutcracker
8.Slept in the sand under the stars
9.Saw a live panda!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Dream come true!)
10.Visited The Grand Palace (Thailand)
11.Took a canal ride
12.Rode an elephant!!!!!!!!
13.Learned how to change a car battery
14.Took a Lit class!!!!!!!!!! (Brit Lit and American Lit actually... amazing!)
15.Learned how to explain all the parts to the Drake Equation :) (Thank you Life in the Universe)
16.Flew all by myself (No Kaylee next to me jolting me awake every second...)
17.Earned Gold Scissors for exemplary Guest Service
18.Saw Avatar! (Movie of the century: Fifteen years in the making!!!)
19.Used Harry Potter Puppet Pals to Introduce myself and my house (Haha)
20.Finally bought a dress from Urban Wear!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And so many more.

Nineteen was good to me.

And here comes twenty whether I want it or not. After a long chat with my parents and some one on one time with myself I feel like it certainly is time to move on from teenagerdom and into adulthooddom. It's a dom either way so really, what could be so differnt?

My last teenage words of wisdom:

LIfe is too short, way too short, to get caught up in the little things.
Just let it go. It's not helping you.
Take every oportunity to learn and use it to better yourself.
Love deep.
Trust strong.
Find time to sing, laugh, dance, and be silly.
Don't get so caught up in the details.
Don't place you happiness in someone else's hands. Take control of your own life.
Find your passion, and do it.
Never forget your family, they matter.
Sleep.

Goodnight, dear void.

And then you talk some more and realize that the things you've been thinking and feeling for so long are not really what they were... as in if seen from another point of view they become completely different; actions, words, thoughts, ect, none the same. And really you've been the one all along. Not anyone else. You thought you were fixing things when you really had been creating things to be fixed and it's not until the end that you see all the problems you created in the beginning and you just want to fix them but you know the only way to really fix them is to just learn from them and move on. You can't go back and going back wouldn't really make the difference anyways. It's the future that shapes my destiny. The past is already written.

Goodnight, dear void.

Once Again...

It never ceases to amaze me how much I truly don't know about myself and about life.
Just when I feel like I've got things down - I know what I want in my life and what I'm going to do next... and then... I don't. It's like just when you think you know for sure how you feel about a situation, you start talking about it and realize that it's not really like that at all and in fact it's completely different then you thought it was. And then everything falls into place. And you're happy. And you realize that everything is what you make it. And you can change everything if you really want to. And happiness is so much more real when you finally give up some things. Done. Over. And happiness sets in.

Goodnight, dear void.

I Miss You.

Dreams

Dreams
Hopes
Desires
Ideas
Subconcious
Revelation
Past
Present
Future
Dreams