So after I posted last night, I slipped into bed and tried to get some sleep. Sounds like a simple thing to do around midnight, right? Not so, for the moon came out to bath me in her glow. Seems like the whole world is trying to pour out some form of light on me--more so the more I fight it.

I have been exercising my brain lately by pumping it with information. It started with my deep desire to make the script for the murder mystery the best it could be and extended into clearing up those piles of books that are everywhere in my world. Of course, the more active my brain becomes, the more activities it wants to throw itself into. More on that if I ever develop some of these strange ideas.

It also nags me endlessly. Yes, more endlessly than I nag people to hang out with me. Lately, it keeps reverberating old conversations in my head and recent conversations where someone else repeated basically my words. Do you people ever listen? Seriously, repeating something I say to me is going to strike a chord whether I mention it or not. Ah, but I need you "there to guide me" with my own words. *frowns* I tire of being talked to like a stupid child by people who are echoing my own words to them (and thanks for the support, btw), almost as much as I tire of not knowing why this switch on my heart has not switched to off yet.

Is this image inside my head just a remnant of a dream
Is there something else in there, how it all does seem
To flicker and fade when the moon goes out, leaves me dark
Bleeding my heart into eternity, then igniting the spark
Why can't they see what I see and leave me to my love
Can't they see they are killing what they want possession of?

In the manner of great grandmothers, I came into yards and yards of fabric today. A lot of this fabric seems to be white. I could make all my granddaughters wedding dresses, if my body was as old as my heart. Well, no more talk of my heart today. I hope it explodes before I have to find some random person to remove my heart with a spoon? Will you really miss this journal if it disappears? Probably not especially with it's lack of humor lately. Sweet dreams.

I would have made a great English teacher. I spend lots of time trying to give myself cheesy writing assignments. For the most part, I ignore them. Well, this one keeps recurring, so smile a little bit, and read the last words of a dying drama queen. Let me explain the premise before you start putting collection cans with my photo on counters in the local Go-Mart though. The topic is: What would you write to the people you care about if you had only a brief time to live for some reason (I'm thinking an outbreak of the bubonic plague or something--too many old books).

To those I love, you know who you are,

I would not leave you if it were my decision to make. Each and every one of you has touched me more deeply than even my words can tell. You have lifted me up, comforted me, given me something to fight for (even if you didn't understand why I was so willing to fight). But all of us are called away at some time to answer for what we have done in our lives.

I only hope that you realize that I will be out there somewhere, still rooting for you and holding faith that you will become everything I saw in you. I could address you each personally, but I fear I will not have long enough to do this, so I shall generalize. Stay close to the truth. Be true to yourselves. Remember that you are incredible people. Perhaps, it is conceit, but what I saw in you was more than some passable beauty or momentary condition. The people I have loved are all unique and all worthy of more love than even I could give.

I ask only that you each remember what was good in me. I have seen my flaws. I have been the first to point them out. I hope that you saw past them. I hope that you loved me in my perfection--what I hope to become. Even now, I do not think my journey is done. I know that I shall continue to learn, as shall each of you. My love I leave with you,

Bella

Perhaps, I should stop there. My cat just came over to love on me. Odd how most of the time, he is the only one who is willing to selflessly offer his love. He is one of the few men brave enough to come out and admit he loves me with more than words or assertions that Heavenly Father told us to love everyone. Saying you love someone and really loving them are two different things. Sadly, for me, love seems to be my great sacrifice. For love, I would do so many things, including walking through fire (which I have done figuratively so many times. Maybe, my memoires will speak of it. In the meantime, I have a skirt to ponder and so many other things to keep my heart from beating too much. Sweet dreams.

So I had to take today off of work. Well, I didn't have to, but I wanted to at least take the skills test once on this permit. You know how it goes, right? So I got up early, so my brother and I could go riding around in the hobbitmobile before he got too tired to pay attention to my massive abilities to impress when behind the wheel. So here is my little story.

I was driving along in the hobbitmobile, passing the time with my hands on the wheel. Came to a light and the light turned red, so I stopped the car could have ran it instead. Turned for a moment to say something to Joe, then heard a kaboom and what do you know? Yeah, that is right. Someone slammed into me when I was stopped at a red light. Here is the lesson you should all learn from this: PAY ATTENTION TO THE ROAD.

Despite this I went to DMV to take my skills test. I was lucky because despite my now busted tail light and crushed bumper, they still let me take the test. I found the part where I got to show off that I know where the blinkers and lights and wipers are. I did manage to parallel park my car to their satisfaction as well, so, yes, I have a license. Of course, this does not make me a taxi though I will drag any of my female friends to any of the upcoming awesome parties that the Mormons are throwing, and I will try to avoid being hit by people who are not paying attention while they are in the car (though this was my brother's third accident involvement of the month, so I think the accident gnomes are stalking him). And now to find some more fun things at Institute Council and Institute.

Caught in the circle, being crushed as it closes in on me. I can choose to stay here inside it and see if it kills me or give up and take the easier path. I have taken that path before. I know the poison with which it is laced, yet somehow it begins to look more and more like the choice for me. I can lie to myself like everyone else and give up on so many things that really matter just so I can feel justified.

I could walk away from all of this. I could turn my back on it all because it really is too hard to love, to care, to spend nights crying because somewhere out there one of your loves weeps and you know it. Call it my curse to care. I pity those of you who do not have the strength to admit you care. I pity those who lock themselves away and build walls to keep people out. Then you wonder why you feel so cold when you won't let people in. I have felt that chill. Yes, it is easier to hide behind your walls and love in solitude, but in the end, it will only kill you that much faster. How do you think I died the second time?

So the insurance company called me today. It looks like the sexy hobbitmobile gets to go to the doctor and have her rear adjusted. This is good news. The words rental and car were also mentioned. I will get a new beast to violate for a couple of days. In more news, we attended our second Hayride meeting. Let me give you some hints for future sightings of hot hobbits. I will be highly visible at the Haunted Hayride in Westover every Friday and Saturday night in October EXCEPT the 29th when I will renew my conquest of the stage in a murder mystery (written by me, so it should be excellent, right?) Well, you can find out. I will give you more details as time passes. In the meantime, I have some e-mail to check and poems to write (to a horse, perhaps).

I can't start out this entry without wishing my darling Shelby a happy birthday. Shelby is a wonderful person, so in honor of her, I feel like hobbit-gifting some people with reminders of why I love them--in case they ever stop in here and look around. So let us begin with praise for those who have somehow gained my esteem. I'll start with my ladies and probably not make it through them, but we'll see.

So I shall start with Shelby. First of all, Shelby is gorgeous and my brother (the one I actually like agrees). That is enough for most people, but that is not why I love my Shelby. Shelby is a sweetheart. She sends me cards. She encourages her daughters to call me Auntie Telle. She also randomly gives me presents like boxes of fabric. In short, she is a great example of charity and compassion. *smooches to Shelby*

I feel so empty right now. I have no idea why. I am just so tired of the monotony that underlies my excitement. What excitement? Well, I guess I could address that.

Friday was the infamous Carnivale. Getting to that and having my car looked at again by the shop cut into telling people why I love them. Someday, I might finish that thought. Anyway, I didn't read the map quite right and ended up driving to Fairmont on the way to the Bishop's house. It is quite a nice little drive and incredibly exciting. (Especially to those people behind me in traffic who probably were worried when my head kept disappearing as I dove for my map which kept seeking after the floor. Yes, I did survey the road before attempting the maneuver.) I finally did turn around and go back though it was touch and go. I was tempted to just keep heading south--no doubt in search of peaches in Georgia.

I arrived at the Carnivale in my lovely gypsy attire complete with a circle skirt, two veils, and a hip scarf. Of course, I also was wearing my fabulous lace hair dinky of France picture fame. If you don't know what I am referring to just shrug your shoulders and move on. Of course, everyone else was sporting jeans and t-shirts, so I stood out. Then again, sexy hobbits always stand out. People were milling around, throwing footballs and darts and collecting tickets for a job well done. Then there was food--all sorts of yummy food. We had hot dogs and chili and caramel apples and popcorn. I didn't see any funnel cake, but I was late, so maybe I missed out.

The evening eventually wound down and it was time to get in the car and go home. One of my friends had a grand total of six people trying to cram into his car. I found this unacceptable as my darling Mrs. Bella was tucking herself into his trunk, so I tried to kidnap the ladies and leave the men to their own devices. Two of the men, however, could not be separated from such beauty. Thus my tiny car was packed with five people. One of the boys began calling the hobbitmobile the gypsymobile, and I believe I failed to set him straight. Of course, it looked more like a clown car. Some confusion later, and our entourage took a fabulous tour of downtown Fairmont.

I have never seen any city, short of Grafton so freaking dead around 9 at night. Seriously, there was no one around. Well, there were those three guys who looked like they might be selling crack who inspired us to lock the doors as I sat there pondering how to best escape the dead city. We finally did escape and make our way home. I hope my passengers learned a couple of things from this: a) time with me is never dull and b) packing 3 people in my back seat is not a wise idea.

After dropping them off, I remembered that one of the coolest bands in the world, the C.O.Z. was playing in the Lair. You know what that means? Yes, I had to see them. I had to molest the band. So I circled around and parked the sexy hobbitmobile and wandered down to see them. They are still awesome though I am not quite sure how I feel about the addition of keyboards to some of their songs. Being a creature of habit, I was a bit thrown off, particularly in Elise, but I didn't feel like chopping off heads, so I guess I can't complain. I got to molest the band, make a request for an upcoming show, and make a bid to become the Primary Poof Provider for the drummer. Then I went home and passed out because there are few things I love more than sleep.

I spent most of Saturday doing that, actually. My motivation has fallen by the wayside. I should have been working on Hayride props, but I just felt like sleeping. I did go to pick up some materials with my roomie. I also spent some time painting a cat statue gray for my mom. If you know my mom, that makes complete sense to you. I didn't accomplish much else, but I probably needed the nap.

So Sunday was my mom's birthday. After another rousing day of church, where I probably scared the crap out of more people by remembering their names than I even know about, I headed south again--no not to Fairmont. I am staying away from Fairmont for a while if I have my choice in the matter. I dropped in on my mom and her cat. I tried to convince her cat to follow me home and I think he was tempted but was afraid I might be just as scary or that Ziggy would kill him. He is male, and she is a fem-nazi.

We sat around and watched her television. Then mom got to witness another first for her little girl. I drove through my first drive through. Not something I normally do with my Sundays, but I find my mother hard to say no to when she desperately wants take-out. I managed on Thanksgiving though. Some may remember this story. Anyway, I finally said good-bye and tried to sneak in a visit to my cousin Gail. She was not available for consultation, however, so I bothered her mom and my other cousin for a bit and got to see my oldest godson. It had been a year and six days since I saw him. This time he did not run from me. Even if he wanted to he couldn't. I am not going to get into that. No one wants to hear a rant about doctors from me.

Then I drove back home--all of this without hurting myself. I must confess that the longer I drive the hobbitmobile at a time, the happier it is. *shakes head*

So I didn't update--again *gasp*. I spent Monday at work where we know nothing exciting happened. Then I made my way to Family Home Evening where the real Monday Mormon fun is, but so much has happened since then that I barely remember playing the Worst Case Scenario Survival Game.

Tuesday was also full of the fun that is work, followed by Institute. I live for Institute despite our lack of after parties. That was also a good day for a long afternoon nap. Don't accomplish much when I do that but even tenacious hobbits need a break from time to time.

My life is full of constant interruptions. Even talking about it gets interrupted. Thus I shall keep this brief before my next interruption comes. The car I have been driving is allegedly "undrivable". Insurance companies are such a crock of crap. Yeah, that's what I have. Keep dancing.

So I woke up this morning and felt very distinctly that I was ten. I had this warm fuzzy, love kitten snuggled into my arms, which could have helped the illusion. Then I realized that not only am I not ten, but I can legally drive. It was a shocking realization. I decided to snuggle the cat for a little bit longer to hold onto the illusion.

I did resolve my wild, torrid affair with the insurance company last night. My car is still my car and I have decided to go with my instincts on car care places. That would be, the more random car parts lying around the office, the better. The place I went to yesterday fit this description. It also had the obligatory random dog wandering around to sniff my ankles and make sure I wasn't trying to steal hubcaps. The guy who looked at my car was also smart enough to look at things I complained about to see if I was wrong in my own personal assessment before putting it on the estimate. Had he looked, he may have noted that the problem was fixable with about 10 twists of a screwdriver. That's right--very simple, but I never claimed to be a mechanic.

Peeking in, thinking they can see it all
Laughing to themselves to see me fall
But they can't see into the heart of me
Can't all that has and will be me
But I see it all, a jumbled mess
Someone who loves, can love no less
And thus can hurt no more over one word
She didn't hear, but knows she heard
Why can I see into hearts which they close
When they can't see what my heart knows
Why must I find my soul eternally weeping
Hiding away more pain with secrets it is keeping

I really have seen too much, and there is so much more to see and give. Will I ever stop looking at the world around me with eyes that see so much and yet a heart that is so willing to trust, to love, to be crushed again by the futility of bestowing that love? At least October is here. I can bestow my talents to the four winds and hope I wake up one morning to a brilliant light that takes me from the aching that swells in my chest not for any reason that any of my readers would think. No one, and I mean no one, knows me as well as they think they do--not even me some days.

So what have I been up to since I last posted. I painted my hand and one of my toes green. This is one of those top secret hayride things. In order to see my artwork, you need to donate $7 to Stepping Stones, hop onto a wagon, and ride through Westover Park. I am still working on the finale of my artwork, so that should take me away from finishing this update any time now.

I spent some time on Saturday helping people out in New Martinsville. Ivan hit them with a vengeance and the lower floors of their houses were all steeped in, let's call it filthy river water. You can only begin to imagine what else flowed through *shakes head*. So some friends and I drove for a couple of hours to rip up carpets, bleach floors, disinfect furniture, and offer what little consolation we could. The streets were piled high with things that had once been of value to the inhabitants but were now ruined. It's quite sad to think of.

I also spent some time obsessively peeking into windows of passing army trucks. My brother got called out to help with the National Guard, so I was hoping to see him. Would have been the high point of my day aside from Mrs. Bella and my sister-in-law *grin* keeping me company and helping me traumatize the boys. Well, I did spend some time with Tyler when we got back to Morgantown. He showed off his great Rubik's cube skills to my roommate, so now he has at least three friends in town. It's always good to have friends, right? Even if they get washed away, you know you'll see them again. Anyway, on to some other topic.

Yesterday was also spent running. Okay, I wasn't literally running, except when I did my dash around the room at church because so many people just randomly dropped in like my Shelby. Then I had to leave early, slip jeans on under my skirt in the parking lot and head out to the park to claim some lights and look at the fact that my tiny group of friends (four regulars) are running about four scenes again. Luckily, I made a friend in the parking lot and kidnapped her, so be prepared to be entertained. Then I hurried home.

I hurried home because I was promised cookies. I was not disappointed, for Ann and Larissa appeared with cookies and some great conversation. We chatted for a while and then they deserted me and I slap some fabric into the sewing machine before exiting stage left myself. I then got to visit some very sweet ladies (seems to be my theme of the day). We chatted. We giggled. I babbled endlessly until Crystal dragged me away. Then I went home slipped some more fabric through the sewing machine, tried to catch up on the random shows on the tivo, and spent some time with the cats before finally passing out.

So before I discuss the real excitement of the week, I feel I must defend my honor yet again. No one bothers to listen to me and certainly don't process what they read here, so it is of no consequence if I go on for hours. I wrote a poem called Correlation once, a long time ago. I just adore that word even if I tend to dislike the poem. My poetry so infrequently lives up to my expectations. That is a story for another day. The real issue is what I know and how I try to make it clear that I have been here before--in this moment, this type of situation--and people just laugh at me and call me a cynic. Worse still they tell me I am selfish.

Now, we all have our moments, but I tend to think that when I will be spending 37.5 hours at work, approximately 14 hours at the hayride, and at least 10 hours at church activities (not including rehearsals, costuming, etc. for the Murder Mystery) that I have a fairly busy schedule. Of course, that does leave me with 106.5 hours a week. Yes, of course. That is a lot of time. Well, my friend who works at a sleep clinic tells me the average person needs to get about 8 hours of sleep a night (50.5). Nutritionists recommend that we eat at least once or twice a day, so let's say I eat twice a day and give myself half an hour for each meal (43.5). Well, I do have to throw travel time in there as well, let's give a small number of say 2 hours with the assumption I don't ever want to visit my family half an hour away (41.5). Of course, I know everyone wants me to shower once a day. Let's say I can shower, dry off, put on clothes, remove Ziggy from my ankles, and be ready to roll in like 15 minutes (39.75). Of course, I have made no secret that I am Mormon, and it has been recommended that I study the scriptures and pray. Let's say that half an hour a day is a fair amount of time to do this in (36.25). Wow, I do have all of that free time, don't I? So if I don't go shopping for food, spend any time relaxing with friends, don't clean my house, don't do favors for people, or breathe, I have all that free time. Of course, an in depth study of how my week falls would probably display my time more clearly. Shall I?

No, I still haven't finished my basic rant. I am getting tired of being stuck in moments where I am obviously back in the same circle. I have had people (men) answer questions for me (usually incorrectly) on more than one occassion, which I don't like. No one knows me better than me. I have also had jellyfish (spineless) mention things to me so I can deal with them and then give me no support when I do bring up the issue they have a problem. Then they wonder why nothing changes. Do you not realize that somehow in the real world my voice can not be heard? I can bring you to tears with my poetry and wrap you up in a web of love that can ease your pain, but I can not make people see that my reasoning is logical because it takes effort and no one but me should sacrifice or make an effort.