Created from a daily writing prompt from Figment.com (will probably turn into more, a full length essay hopefully, maybe more).
The prompt:

Same shapes

Take the first page of a story you love and mirror the shape of it. Without using any of the same characters or subject matter, copy the structure. Try and make your sentences and paragraphs the same length as the original. When the original uses description, describe. When the original uses dialogue, use dialogue. 

You can go even further by trying to match nouns, adjectives, and verbs as well. If you post your result on Figment, make sure you mention what story you're using as inspiration!

Inspiration from The Sun Also Rises and the character of Robert Cohn. 

Joseph Paterno was once the most winniest coach in all of college football. Now, many are not impressed by this title, but to the true Penn State fans Paterno meant a lot. Actually, this is even an understatement, because he built the University, the legacy of Penn State, and some even argue college football. There was a certain something about him that made you feel like you were talking to a family member, a grandpa, even though you knew that you weren’t related to him at all, but there was still that certain comfort that family would give and this you got from him. He was Rip Engle’s most celebrated pupil. Rip Engle taught his athletes at Brown University and then at Pennsylvania State University to give their best no matter what the situation. Rip Engle taught them to always be the leader, not the follower, no matter what position they played. This fit Paterno. He learned fast. He was so good, developed into such a leader, that Rip persuaded him to sign an assistant football coach contract at Penn State, following Rip from Brown to Penn State. This lead Joe to a new location, sixteen years later, Joe would succeed Rip as Penn State’s head coach, but it gave a new purpose, and it gave him a new home. In his last year at Penn State he coached while secretly battling lung cancer and secured the wins that would give him more wins than any other college football coach. I never met any one of his power who cared so much for each and every student. They were students first before they were his athletes.  

She didn't blush anymore

She didn’t blush anymore.

She used to always blush when she’d think of her crushes.

First there was her cousin. “Everyone will think it’s stupid. No one will get it. They won’t see how he is with me. They won’t see the real him, and the real me.” She blushed as she kept this crush to herself.  She was afraid no one would understand why she liked him so much. “He’s your cousin. That’s gross!” This she imagined them saying if the news got out. They didn’t know that he listened to what she said when everyone else didn’t. They didn’t see the special time he set aside for their annual canoe rides out on the lake during the family camping trips every summer. Then he started bringing his girlfriend on these trips and she was left out of the canoe rides. Instead of blushing at her liking him, she was angry.

Then there was the guy who would become her cousin through marriage. This was a different guy than the first cousin. When they were dating he wasn’t officially her cousin yet… But she still blushed when her best friend reminded her that it was the same as being cousins because his dad was still dating her aunt. No one knew why she dated this guy. She couldn’t even explain it, really. Except that he was her first real boyfriend. That was all she could say. She didn’t blush when she dumped him and started dating another guy on the same day.

After this, she had a series of crushes on all of the popular guys. There was one that lasted the entire 7th grade and into the 8^th grade. She had always talked to him, went to all of his football games. He wrestled for her dad; she travelled with the team to all of the tournaments so she could spend every Saturday with him. They became close friends, but she could never tell him just how much she liked him, that it was more than just friends for her, much much more than that. Her cheeks turned red every time she thought of what she would say to him. He was the new kid in school, but he became popular after the first month he was there. By the time his second year, he was the most popular guy in their grade and every girl had a crush on him. She’d never be good enough for him. During the eighth grade dance he made sure he saved a song for her. It was the last song of the night, “Truly Madly Deeply” by Savage Garden. It was perfect, she thought. This will be the time that I finally get to tell him how I feel, when it’s just us, him and me. As they started dancing and she was building up the courage to speak, he spoke first. “I can’t tell you how much you mean to me. You’re amazing, funny, smart, always there for me to talk to. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re my best friend.” Her pulse quickened, palms started to sweat, her throat tightened. “You’re like one of the guys to me.” If he said anything after this, she didn’t hear it. She blushed right before everything went numb inside her. If she still blushed after that, she didn’t know it.

She used to blush a lot in high school. Like the time she was only a sophomore and he was a senior. He had a girlfriend – they had been dating for five years at that point. But he would talk to her – not his girlfriend – late at night. On the band trip, they fell asleep talking to each other on the phone in the hotel – she blushed at some of the questions that he’d asked. He asked her to sit next to him during the musical they saw the next day – his girlfriend was furious and jealous at this. She blushed when she thought of all the assumptions that people would make. One night, he began asking her sexual questions. With some, she had no idea what he was asking or suggesting and so she just made up answers. She blushed at her ignorance of these things. The farthest she had gone with any guy was making out … He was the first guy to get her to do sexual things; she blushed at this, too. He made a plan: he’d be the first guy to “break her in” … she blushed during the whole time he told her his plan. Then she blushed and cried when it never happened. How could she be so stupid to think that it would actually come true? She didn’t blush anymore; she just tried to get him out of her head, and heart.

There were several boyfriends that she had who would go only as far as holding her hand, one wouldn’t even do that. She was disappointed with their lack of intimacy, but wouldn’t pressure them to do anything. She didn’t know how to initiate anything, but she just wanted to be with someone. Being alone was what she feared most in the world. She used to blush at her indecision; why couldn’t she just be happy with what she had?

Then there was the guy who liked her more than anyone else ever had. She didn’t really know what to do with this guy. He liked her so much, but she couldn’t return the feelings. Sure, he was a great person, good friend, everyone liked him … but she didn’t like him, not like that at least. She wasn’t attracted to him like she was to other guys. She blushed at his persistence; he kept telling her how much he liked her, what was “so great” about her, that she should date him. She turned him down, time after time. Once she even made up a boyfriend – Brad Funerelli, he was the best boyfriend ever! But still this guy kept on asking her out, until finally she gave in and agreed to date him. At least I know he won’t leave me for another girl, she thought. She used to blush, knowing that she could never match his affection for her. Then one day: “I think we’re moving towards just being friend with benefits… I think it’s better if we were just friends.” First she blushed because she didn’t even know what “friends with benefits” meant, and then she blushed when she realized he was breaking up with her. After this she didn’t know what to do, if she couldn’t keep him, hold on to him, how would she be able to keep anyone? She would be alone forever. Her blushing face turned pale and the tears started to fall, forming rivers down her cheeks as she ran out the door of his house.

Standing next to her car, crying, sobbing, gasping for air, she heard a familiar voice coming toward her. In her crying fit she couldn’t hear or understand what he was saying, her own sorrow was louder than his words. But she recognized the voice; it was her best friend. He came up to her, first excited to see her – they always loved talking to each other – then worried when he saw her crying. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? What happened? He didn’t…” He looked into her eyes. “Oh my god! He did! How could he?! I’m so sorry. Truly, I am. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” And he hugged her. It was the best thing that she could have gotten at that moment. A hug from her best friend. She felt safe in that hug, like he’d make everything okay. His warmth warming up her face. She blushed with their embrace. Her lips twitched into a smile, barely recognizable as a smile, as he brushed the tears falling off her face. “It’ll be okay. I promise. You’re strong; you’ve been through worse. You inspire me to face every day with a smile; you bring light to my world.” This would be the last time that she smiled for months.

She thought about that talk every night … How he made her feel safe, liked, wanted, appreciated. How his fingers felt on her face as he brushed the tears off. How his arms felt, how she could smell his sweet scent as he surrounded her with comfort. She remembered his last words in that conversation, “You’re not alone. I’ll always be here for you.” She decided that this was it. She was going to ask him to be her date to the Homecoming dance. No one had asked her – they must have all known what a mess she was – and as far as she knew, he hadn’t asked anyone. When she finally got the courage to ask, he told her that he didn’t think he was even going to go. He wasn’t a “fan” of dances. She wanted to believe these words, more than anything she wanted to believe him. But she knew that it wasn’t true. She knew that he was just saying that to be nice and to keep the friendship that they had built over the years. She understood this, and she knew that she wasn’t the type of girl he dated, or even took to dances, anyways. She was too good of a friend to be the other type of girl. This didn’t stop her disappointment, though. It didn’t stop the sadness, the tears, the lonely nights that all became too familiar to her.

Her face wouldn’t flush red anymore … She didn’t blush when her next boyfriend spread rumors around the school stating that she was “a beast in bed” … She didn’t blush people would talk behind her back, saying that she wasn’t good enough for him, wondering how in the world she got him to ask her out … She didn’t blush when married guys’ heads would turn as she walked by … She didn’t blush when old boyfriends would come crawling back when she became single again … She didn’t blush when a married guy, more than twice her age, fooled around with her while his wife was sleeping up stairs …  She didn’t blush when another married guy told he was divorcing his wife and that they’d be together some day, then a month later tell her that he wasn’t getting divorced after all… She cried, too many times. She was angry. She moved on more times than she can remember. But she didn’t blush anymore …

Lessons learned from some Dads in my life

So today's Father's Day... naturally this post will be about all the dads in my life.
First I have to start with the man that was ALWAYS there for me, even after he passed away - my Grandpa.
Lessons I've learned from Papa Cobb:
- Never go to bed angry.
- Always say what's on your mind, never leave anything unsaid.
- ALWAYS Love unconditionally, no matter what. That's what real love is.
- Whenever you need to blame someone for something, there's always the dog ;)
- Stick with your team, whatever team you choose- The Yankees - no matter what happens  in the season.
- Always do your best, give it your best shot, and be your best. You will be remembered for it.
- Always smile.
Lessons I've learned from Papa Blakelock:
- Never forget where you come from.
- Love with all your heart and nothing less.
- Find a good guy and you'll be happy for life.
- It won't always be easy, but it will always be worth it.
Lessons learned from my Dad - Jim Cobb
- Never quit, only quitters loose.
- Even though sometimes it doesn't show as much as others, it doesn't mean that you aren't loved and appreciated.
- Always carry chapstick. :)
Lesson learned from my brother-in-law, Jonathan, and father of my niece, Cora:
- Never be ashamed of what you've done or didn't do in the past. You can always learn from the past. Lesson learned form my Step-dad, Tim:
- Everyone needs some love in their life, so love them - whether they are blood or not, love them like they are and you'll be loved back. <3
Lesson learned from Uncle Glenn:
- Sugar cookies are best when frozen and snuck into church on Christmas Eve.
- Making people laugh feels 100 times better than anything else, for both of you.
- Always stick by your family, they are blood and will always be there.
There have been times when I haven't had the greatest, best, or even a good relationship with my dad. Those times I cannot change, and part of me doesn't want to change them because I've learned from many that whatever has or hasn't happened in the past, has made you into who you are today and who you will become tomorrow. And I like, no love the person that I am right now. I can feel proud of who I am, so no I wouldn't change those. I also wouldn't change them because it allowed other people to step into my life and show me the love and support that I needed, Papa Cobb, Tim, Uncle Glenn - another dad, my God father... So this post goes out to all the dads that have helped me get through anything in my life, whether they know it or not. I love and appreciate every one of them and will never forget what they taught me.

Continuation of the "rambling"

Continuing my previous rambling ...

Perhaps I did love Brandon then. I remember being horribly heartbroken. I knew that our relationship could not last much longer, even though I wanted it to more than anything. I knew that it was going to come to an end soon, and that if I didn't end it myself, I would be horribly heartbroken. And I couldn't see past the heartbreak. But I couldn't end it, I couldn't think of what words to say.
This was the fourth time in my life that I had been truly heartbroken, when I could literally feel my heart ache as it was shred into tiny pieces. The first time was when I realized that I would never have a "normal" relationship with my father. the words he spoke to me - in anger, fear, disappointment, sorrow, truth?, I don't know - still ring in my head. The second was when my Grandfather passed away. The first man that I truly loved. That I gave everything for and to. His last words - I love you, Kate. Make me proud! - echo in everything I do. The third was the third time that my Grandmother battled cancer. I get my courage, bravery, and strength from her - the strongest woman, no, person that I ever knew.
And then there was the fourth. Brandon. The words that he spoke to me that night were not in anger or hatred but in pity and sorrow. He knew me better than anyone else, save for myself and my mom. He knew that by breaking up with me, by breaking my heart, he would be breaking me (or at least the part of me that was then). he learned, grew, and matured in the five and a half years we were together. There were times when he tried to end it before - through anger, words of hatred and disgust, and cheating - but he always came back. This time was different. His voice wasn't steady, it shook. I could hear his tears fall simoltaneously with mine. "Call your mom, Iaisha, friends. You're going to need them." He told me. "Don't try to contact me in any way, or my friends or family."
The words "I fell apart" do not even begin to describe all that happened after he hung up the phone. While on the phone, I cried, like he was dying, I begged him not to do this, I directed words of anger and hurt toward him. But I was still in a state of shock. It was like I was watching it all happen from inside a bubble. As soon as he pushed END, the bubble popped and everything rushed in on me. I felt all of the emotions at once and didn't know what to do. I just sat there. And cried. For thirty minutes straight.
Then, I called my mom - at midnight, while crying hysterically. Naturally, she was immediately worried and all I could get out was "He broke up" "Who? What? What happened?" "Brand." (I couldn't say his full name). "He dumped." - More crying. - "Me." This was followed by "Oh honey. I'm so sorry. Look. Try to get some rest tonight and I will call you tomorrow." (Rest, just like the 19th century doctors always said, was always her solution.) In her head, she was probably saying, "That son of a bitch. I'm going to kill him if I ever get the chance." And despite the "get rest" advice, I didn't get any. I went into work the next day with half an hour of horrible sleep. So when I wasn't crying, I was falling asleep at my desk. My co-workers - who knew the on-going problems and continuously tried talking me into breaking up with him - saw my face and the following scene ensued:
Denise: You finally did it?
I shook my head.
Jamie: He didn't...
Tears started rolling out of my eyes and down my face.
Denise: That Bastard...
I nodded my head and started bawling.
I was sent home after two hours of this - crying and sleeping, no work being done. Well, not really sent home but taken home, Jamie drove my car and Denise followed us. As soon as they left, my mom called and I tried to explain everything that happened.

Ramblings on "Someday my Prince will come"

So was up reading last night, cause I couldn't fall asleep and suddenly I had this urge to write. So I found my notebook and started writing away. This is what I came up with:
People are always trying to give me advice. Some say cliches that I have come to love. "Always listen to your heart. Follow your heart." "Find what makes you happy, not others." Some things I have always questioned, even tried to resist at times. "Love will find you when you least expect it." If I am not expecting it, then how do I know if it's there? "Don't go searching for love, let it find you." If everyone had this mentality would there still be love in the world? If everyone waited for love to find them, what would happen? Doesn't there have to be some aggressive to the passive int he world?
When I grew older (and supposedly more mature) I worried more and more about the idea of love. As a kid I learned of love as a prince coming to save the day on his white horse. My sister and I watched Sleeping Beauty so much I still remember the words Aurora sang to her forest friends, "Some day my prince will come..." People have even said this tome, while in my head the music was playing in the background. In my pre-10 year old years I had dreamed of marrying a prince (or John Wayne). Then I became devastated when I found out the Duke had died of cancer (why hadn't anyone told me this when I dreamed of marrying JW before?) and the princes took center stage. For most girls that age, and even older into the early teens, they loved the idea of marrying a prince because that would mean that they would become a princess. This is probably the reason that makes the most sense. For me, though, it wasn't the idea of becoming a princess that I dreamed of most, it was the idea of marrying the prince. The prince was the perfect love, the perfect man, and they ALWAYS lived happily ever after. I wanted that love, the devoted love.
Throughout my later teens and early twenties, the phrase "your prince will come someday" had transformed. At 13, I dreamed that my very own Prince Phillip was going to come riding along on his trusty steed and we'd instantly fall in love. My worries about love began at 16. I started to worry, wonder, fear... "Not many people ride horses anymore. None around here. What is he, my prince, going to do now? How is he going to ride in on the horse, how will I know that its him without the horse? By the time I turned 18, I had give up on the fairytale image and instead I turned to finding the "modern-day" version of a prince. To me, "some day my prince will come" now meant "some day, my love will come."
But this is what worried me the most. Will he come? Will the love of my life ever find me? And if so, how will he find me? I was a senior in high school when I met Brandon. When we first met I could have (and probably did, in my head) mistaken him for Aladdin, he looked just like the Disney prince! I didn't really know what love was at that point (even though I thought I knew several times, or claimed that I did), but I thought that this had to be it. I had to fall in love with Aladdin, I mean Brandon. After dating for only three months, he said "I love you" first. I convinced myself for the next five and a half years that I loved him, also. However, by the end of our relationship I had learned what love was and what it wasn't. I knew that it wasn't real love anymore (or maybe never was) but just in love with the idea of being in love, hanging onto love.

Favorite quotes of all time - or at least right now

So my brother asked me for my top 10 favorite quotes - of course, I couldn't narrow them down to just 10. But here they are, upon request of a friend, (not in any order, either - because they would mean I'd have to make decisions.)
- “after we obtain knowledge of the elements of art, such as color, form, andunity, ‘we may trust our emotional nature or spirit to create, and then uponcomparison, we find them like nature.’ … - my very own RAB :)
-Write Drunk, Edit Sober - Ernest Hemingway
- Never mistake motion for Action - Hemingway
- In order to write about life, first you must live it. - Hemingway
- A man can be destroyed, but not defeated - Hemingway
- There is no friend as loyal as a book - Hemingway
- Every man is a quotation from all his ancestors - Ralph Waldo Emerson
- The best amumunition against lies is the truth - Hemingway
- You must never be mundane! - Kim Barnes
- Words can leave deeper wounds than any weapen.
-“It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.” - Albus Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
- “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” – Albus Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
-“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living. And above all, those who live without love.” -Dumbledore
- "I solemly swear that I am up to no good."-- HP

A return to Cobbler of Words

Hey everyone! I hope ya'll missed me. Things have been crazy with school and such. So I wrote this post last night, kind of like a post- Madenning Young Love Monday. Hope you enjoy it, it's not the happiest post, but it's honest. One of the most honest writings I've done in a while.

The idea of falling in love frightens me, but at the same time, it is the one thing that I want the most. To fall in love is to give over to your heart, to give up all control and emotions, to just feel, to let your heart take control over everything.

It is this lack of control, the handing over of control that scares me the most. To just let go of everything. I fear not being able to think what I want. I have this notion that if I fall in love I lose my own thoughts, dreams, feelings, words. That I will no longer be “I” but “we” – not a singular pronoun, but a collective one. Will I lose my agency if I fall in love? How much of my “independence” will I lose?

They say that if it’s the right one then this doesn’t happen. They, another plural pronoun, this time including my mom. But this is what also frightens me about love. What if I fall in love with the wrong person?

My mom would say then it isn’t real love if it’s not the right person. And for years I lived off these words. Every time I was with a guy I thought I loved or even one that I just really wanted it to work out with, I’d tell myself, convince myself that he was the one, the right guy. But things would never work, and I’d always get my heart broken. Can you only fall in love once? And what if your “right guy” is different than what your family thinks? Or even society? Then what?

When I was with Brandon, I convinced myself, year after year, that he was the one. I told myself that it was meant to be because he brought me out of my depression, we had our story. And I felt instant happiness when I was with him. (But now I wonder if it was happiness or just attraction.) Year after year, fight after fight, tear after tear, I’d tell myself that it’s okay. We’re meant to be together. And I’d always take “you guys fight like a married couple” to heart, to me – then – it meant we’re supposed to be together, forever.

Then after five and a half years, he broke my heart for the last time. I’d like to say that he cheated on me, I found out, and broke up with him. But then I would be telling a lie. No, that’s not how it happened. The year before this we got into the worst fight of our then four and a half year relationship. He had gotten far too close to a girl at his internship, there were rumors. I didn’t believe these rumors, or maybe I did, but didn’t want to. I don’t remember. But I do remember that he kept this girl away from me, hidden. I had met his other friends- they were the ones to tell me of the rumors – but not her, not Julie. Even when I knew about her, he still tried to deny it or change the subject. And I should have ended it then, I almost wanted to. But I didn’t. I knew things were wrong and would never be right between us again, but I didn’t end it.

Instead, things ended a year later, after another discussion of Julie – yes, she came back – and another girl – this one yelled at him, “didn’t know he had a girlfriend”. (After five years, he didn’t talk about me? Didn’t even mention me?) I should have ended it then, too, but I didn’t. Even though it ripped my heart in half, I still convinced myself that we were meant to be. Instead he was the one to end things, the one to finally smash my heart into tiny shards. I had told him that he needed to choose between the single life and a life with me. He called me back five hours later, at 11 on a Tuesday night – almost Wednesday, his voice trembled. He repeated things he had said before, “I thought I loved you, but I don’t”, “I can’t keep doing this”, “You deserve better than me.” But it was the tremble, the silent tears that I knew were falling, that made me believe him this time. It was the added words that he didn’t say before: “I had tried to do this for a year now, but I couldn’t leave you alone”, “I love you, but I’m not in love with you”, “Go call your mom, friends, Iaisha, you’re going to need them now”, “Please, don’t call me, text me, anything. Don’t talk to my family or friends”. “I’m sorry, I really am sorry.” Those words made me believe him that time. It was the silence after he hung up, the silence that lasted for months that made me believe.

But even now, years later, as I write this, I remember that I didn’t’ believe. I would constantly tell myself, and others, that he would come back after the summer. He never did.

The alcohol not only numbed all the pain, tears, and feelings, but it numbed the truth, too. When I drank, I didn’t feel. In the morning, I’d drink until I didn’t feel anymore- until I could go to work and not cry all day. At night, I’d drink into non-existence. I’d drink until I no longer cried myself to sleep, but just slept. I’d drink until my body would give up.

I remember that people would try to reach out to me, my mom, friends, co-workers – they were the best, sent me home on my worst days, but still paid me – even my little brother, who hardly spoke to me before this, tried to reach out. But none of them ever told me that he wasn’t coming back, they just let me live in delusion. Or maybe they did and I don’t remember. Maybe the alcohol numbed memory too.

He never once told me that I was pretty, gorgeous, beautiful… but I still believed he was the one. Years and years of tears and heartache and I still believed. But why? I still don’t know. How could a guy that would fuck me so hard when he was drunk that my head banged against the wall, a guy that I cried while having sex with because I couldn’t please him, how could he be the one? And yet, I still believed.

Maybe it was all this – the alcohol, the depression, the heartbreak – that has kept me where I’m at now. I know I don’t want to go back to all that, I hold on so that I don’t have to.

Joel and I met on an online dating website right after the New Year – 2012 – began. We hit it off right from the start. Things – everything – just clicked, as they say. It seemed perfect. Except that he lived on the other side of the country – I was in Idaho, he was in New Jersey, and the three hour time difference made it difficult to talk a lot. But when we did talk, it was amazing. I felt like I never had before. Then a month into the “relationship”, his grandpa died and he spent a week in Texas – where he grew up and where his grandma lived. Once he got back home, things were “normal” again for about a week or two, then he got deployed for a month – he’s in the Air Force. But even then, we still talked every couple of days, so things were okay.  

They then escalated to where we said I love you and you’re the one and we became facebook official – even though we weren’t “facebook friends”, the world knew I had a boyfriend out there, somewhere, who cared about me and loved me. But now, it’s been five and a half weeks since I’ve heard a single word from him. He doesn’t respond to any of my emails – not even the ones I sent to his military email that I found online. I worry. I worry a lot: about him, about us, about me, about having another Brandon depression. I don’t know what to do, but I tell myself it has to be. So now what? I feel my mind rebuilding the wall around my heart. But my heart is still trying to resist it. What is the right thing to do?

I also worry about the type of guy that I find myself naturally attracted to. Joel is nine years older than me. This is normal. Actually, if I think about it, the guys that I flirt with the easiest are usually older guys, and a lot of times married, sometimes with kids. But don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I seek out the married guys. A lot of times I don’t find this fact out until later. But is it wrong to have this attraction?

Society says yes. My mom would say yes. I constantly have to hold my mind back- Stop, I tell myself. He’s happily married, with kids; you don’t want to break that family up. Or he’s your professor, you can’t do this. You shouldn’t have these thoughts. Or do you know how old he is? He’s old enough to be your dad! But yet, I always have these thoughts.

This week I told myself that I will probably end up some “older, rich guy’s secretary and fall in love with him.” And maybe a part of me wants this to come true. A part of me wants this to happen. Is it wrong to have these thoughts, these dreams? Is it wrong to want this? And why, if it is? Why is it wrong?

Flashback Friday - on a Saturday

I know you've all missed me tremendously this week. It's been one hell of a week - State Board of Education was here on campus this week, I had to give them a 3 minute speech on why they are wrong for taking flagship out of our mission statement, there has been much homework to do, and many meetings to attend. So I'm making this Flashback Friday-Saturday.
1 week ago: I was treading this week. I was also reliving the 80's with the 80's Smash-hits Spotify channel. - Rock the Cashbah, I'm So excited ...
2 weeks ago: I was praying that Joel was okay and still loved me - still am, 4 weeks now without any word from him. :-/
A month ago: (An actual facebook post) - 2 of the greatest things in the world to me right now - 1. Knowing that there's a guy on the other side of the country that can't stop thinking about me :) 2. Knowing that there are professors here that are willing and want to actually help you improve and succeed - ♥ makes me feel motivated and like I do actually belong here!
2 months ago: I had made Joel and I "facebook official" <3
1 Year ago:

Celebrating Mike's last lacrosse game!
Mike and Cora

Sunday Family Funday - My Brother

So I was trying to figure out what to write for Sunday Family Funday from yesterday and this post came to me today while walking home from class.
My brother, Michael, and I never had a bad, horrible relationship. (Although there was that Christmas that he hit me on the head with his new toy guns. And there was that time when Erin and I put him in a dress in order for him to get his beloved blankey back - Uncle Glenn's suggestion.) Just not one that we talked much during. Usually I only heard from him when the family would get together. But I always kept tabs on him on Facebook to make sure that everything was going okay for him.
There was one time when he actually reached out to me and it really touched me. I had just got "dumped" (I always hated that term) by my boyfriend of 5.5 years, of course I am devastated (and eventually would fall into complete depression and alcoholism), but the day or two after it happened, my phone rang and it said "Mike" with a picture of him and our big fat cat, Leo. I answered it, trying to stifle my tears and cries which never ended during the first couple of weeks. "Hey, Kate. Mom told me about what Brandon did to you. I'm really sorry he did that. I know you must be sad. I hope you're doing okay. It'll all be okay." And that was the extent of our conversation. But for my brother, that was the biggest thing I remember him doing up to that point and it meant more to me than anything anyone did for me during that break up.
The next time that he showed an extra, "abnormal" amount of affection for me was when I got my shit together after Brandon and started dating a new guy - Tom. This wasn't reaching out to me, but for me. He went to my mom when he found out who I was dating and told her - "You can't let Kate date Tom. Whatever you do, don't let her." And I think my mom, for the most part, just brushed this off. Although she was always trying to point out things to me that would (she was hoping) set me to break up with him (which I did twice before it ended "for real"), she never mentioned this comment from Mike to me until after she knew Tom and I were broken up for good. This time it was my own "dumping", I was the one that dumped, instead of was dumped upon. But it was still hard - I don't like hurting anyone and I knew how fragile Tom was at that point, whether he wanted to admit it or not. I worried for him, which was the reason why I took him back the first time.
After that it would be another year or two (I forget how long it's been) when I'd have my next "wow" Mike moments. These all happened in reference to his new girlfriend, Hailey. (This information I found out months later when she told me at Thanksgiving last year.) When he brought her to meet us for the first time, he told her that his "sisters" (plural) had to like her, if we didn't then he couldn't date her. This might not seem big to you, but it should. For my brother to include me in this is huge. He's always gotten along way better with Erin, our older sister, so I was expecting him to need her approval, but not mine. This caught me pleasantly off-guard. I love him for including me in that, made me feel appreciated and loved in a minimal relationship. In this same conversation with Hailey, we were randomly talking and somehow I mentioned something about Brandon and she said "oh yeah, Michael warned me about that. He said 'Yeah, we don't talk about that.'" This was so sweet and tender, I almost wish I could have spied on him at that moment. I love him for thinking of me and my feelings - even if it was 2 years later.
The next moment was this last Christmas, when my mom said that he went and did his own Christmas gift shopping and picked out all the gifts for people on his own. I could tell that he really put some thought into mine. To some people it would be basic gifts and no thought at all, but for Mike I think there was a lot of thought in it. This was my first year in Idaho, of course. What he got me: a gift certificate for Barnes & Noble - he knows my love and infatuation for books - and a picture frame that says Home. While I loved the Barnes & Noble gc, I loved the picture frame even more because it showed more thought I think.
This has all come about because of the last "Mike" moment - for now. This morning he sent me a text message and asked me if I could revise his paper, "but the thing is it's due tomorrow morning". This was great. I don't remember him ever asking me to read over any of his papers, even though I always offered. And this wasn't even my mom pushing him to do it. She said he called her and asked for my number. While it added on to my already burdening load of work to do this week. I told him I absolutely would. And did, after class. This was great on so many levels because not only did it show that he actually, at least kind of, cares about his grades now (or at least for this class, and this project), and I think he is finally ready to be done with college, but it also shows that he finally wants my opinion on something school related. He has never acknowledged this before. And it feels great.
I love him like I'd love any brother, even though he's my only brother. I love him to pieces and would do anything to help him. I am also so PROUD of who he's become. He's a gentleman, a great boyfriend (according to Hailey), and a great person in general. He's awesome. and I really hope he reads this and knows how much I love him and wouldn't ask for another brother. I love you, Michael!

Flashback Friday - the Circus

Today's Flashback Friday is a piece that I'm working on for an assignment for Non-Fiction workshop. It's a New York Times Lives piece - look 'em up, some of them are really great. Let me know what you think of my piece.

The Running of the Clowns
My butt was numb from the hard plastic chair; my fingers stuck together from the blue residue left from the cotton candy I inhaled in five minutes. (Mom let us get sweet prizes this time because it was the circus. “We have to!” My sister and I pleaded with her.) I sat on the edge of my seat staring beyond the sea of chairs and into the deep pit below us.
“Punchbug!” Erin yelled out as she smacked my arm.
The yellow Beetle pulled into the pit. My arm still stung from the slug. I watched the clowns spill out from inside the car. Tall ones, short ones, fat ones, skinny ones. A crayon box of colors filled my vision. I wondered when the supply of clowns would stop, if it ever would, but glad that they were down there, far away from me.
One of the clowns began to talk but I was too distracted by his outfit to pay attention to what he was saying. Purple pants, blue shoes – flat as a pancake! – yellow shirt, green suspenders, orange hair and a huge red flower stuck to his shirt. I was jealous of this outfit - he didn’t have Erin telling him that those don’t match at all. I imagined what it would be like to be able to wear all those colors at once. He looked straight at me, I saw a blue tear painted on his face and wondered why he was a crying clown. Everyone turned their smiles to me, laughter engulfed me.
The clown with fake emotions started to climb the stairs, making his way in my direction. My heart started to pound. My hands began to sweat. My breathing quickened as he came closer and closer. Why couldn’t he have stayed down there with the others?
He stopped right next to where Mom was sitting and reached his white gloved hand out toward me. Flight or fight took hold of my five year old mind. I didn’t want him touching me. I jumped up and my little legs started to run. And I raced myself. My small, skinny body fit through the waves of seats easily. No one stood in my way.  I bolted, trying to get as far away as possible.
Mom was jogging behind me, struggling to make it between the rows, calling me back to her. “It’s okay Kate. He’s not going to hurt you!” Her voice echoed in my fleeing mind.
The clown was trailing her. I could hear his giant shoes flapping on the floor. Then another one appeared in front of me. This one’s colors were all mixed up. And no tear on his face (why wasn’t he crying?) instead a small tiny hat perched on top of his head.
I panicked. The only thing that I could do was to squeeze under his arm and run up the aisle. Just when he thought I was running to him, I slipped under the hat-topped clown’s arm (his silk shirt brushed against the top of my head) and ran as fast as I could, as high as I could get. The clown’s steps echoed behind me. Mom behind him, the fear of what I’d do next etched across her face, the crying clown flapping behind her, and others joining the race.
Reaching the top of the aisle, I looked back and saw a trail of colors. The lead clown was just about to reach me when his pancake shoes became too much for him. He started to topple over. I reached out my tiny hand. I loved the smooth, cool feel of the silk as I helped him finish the fall. I wanted that shirt.
Mom jumped out of the line just before the dominoes of clowns started to collapse, all their shoes too big to handle and the rainbow of colors falling down, one on top of each other.
Mom ran up the stairs and lifted me into her arms.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” She whispered in my ear as she squeezed my body to hers harder than she ever had before. I didn’t think that she would ever let go, maybe she didn’t want to.
The audience thought it was all part of the circus act. Their laughter reached me and mom, surrounded us, the reunited, hugging couple. Fear, relief and love flooded mom’s face. Comfort, Tears of fear, relief and love filled mine.
I felt a bruise begin to form on my arm, the same spot from earlier, as Mom and I walked back to Erin hand in hand, the blue tear left in my mind.
“I still don’t understand how you can be afraid of clowns with circus in our blood.” Mom whispered to herself.

Welcome to Wednesday

Welcome to Wednesday - MY Life 

Full of stress right now. No money. Stressed from classes - last month of semester so tons of papers due. Haven't heard from Joel in what will be 3 weeks tomorrow - Have no idea what's going on there. Yikes! Still terribly homesick. Taking on probably too much, but trying to make it all work. Trying to relax myself tonight with music. At least no classes tomorrow, so I have all weekend to do homework - like every weekend. 

Monday I register for classes for next semester - Hemingway, A class that includes Charlotte Bronte and Gaskell and James, and Non-Fiction workshop, of course. 

I am completely beat for tonight. So that's all I have. To help make up for the super short post - here's one of my favorite songs/videos/bands - always inspires me to hear this one. 

Dream On - Aerosmith 

<3 Steven Tyler 

Mom would be proud! 

Obsessed with Tuesday - The true story

I'm not sure if I've wrote about this obsession before or not, I forget now and honestly, I'm too tired and lazy to go back and look. So I apologize if this is a repeat obsession.
So today's obsession with telling the true story - of any story. This kind of ties into my thesis, at least I think it will at some point.
I am constantly obsessed with trying to find and tell the true story - how it really happened. This goes for just about anything that I write about. Normally it's not a bad thing, except when it comes to my writing - sometimes I think it holds me back. Like when I was trying to write about Blakelock and Mrs. Adams, I was trying to stick to the facts that are "known" and what really happened, but in doing so, it kept it at a distant, non-emotional level. And now when I look back on this, I can tell that wasn't the right approach because all of this is very personal and emotional to me, and so it was trying to put a false front and no writing should ever do that. I think that your readers deserve better than a fake story. I needed to insert myself in the story and show them why it matters to me.
I think one of the reasons, if not the reason, why I do this in my writing - trying to stick to the fact and "real story" is because I'm a little afraid of everything that I will find out about - myself, my family, friends, past relationships, memories, etc. while I'm writing it. But if I want to be a true writer and successful and really connect with my readers, I need to just let the go and be afraid, but at the same time let go of that part of the control. Let it take me where it wants, instead of trying to control everything - because you can't control EVERYTHING.
Anyways, trying to catch up on past blogs so that's all for tonight. We'll see if I can bust out a Welcome to Wednesday tonight also.

Maddening Young Love Monday - People tell me...

Another Maddening Young Love Monday - another week has gone by without any word from Joel, which worries me more than anything right now.
People tell me: He's military trained, don't worry. I'm sure he's fine, he's probably just super busy. Try not to worry. But I still worry - there are some things that even military training can't protect you against.
People tell me: "Well, you knew he was in the military when you got involved" - as if this is supposed to make things easier? It doesn't make it easier, at all. I don't see the line of reasoning behind this comment at all. How is me knowing that he was in the military when I got into this supposed to make it any easier? In fact, it only makes it harder, more difficult, because I know that the chances of something happening to him are even higher than a "normal" person. At least, if he wasn't in the Air Force, or even if I didn't know he was, I could innocently assume that he's in New Jersey and just super busy with work and life, and my worries would be "normal." Instead, I have no idea where he is right now, I like to assume that he's still in NJ and just super busy, but as it has been over 2 weeks without a single word from him, I have no idea. So now my worries are where is he and I pray to God that he's okay.
People tell me: He's such a jerk for leaving you like this. You need to just move on and forget him. - But what if it wasn't his choice? What if I don't think he's a jerk? What if I don't want to move on? What if I can't forget him?
People tell me: Two weeks is a long time to go without hearing from him (As if I didn't know this already?!) They ask - He still hasn't responded to a single email? That's not good. - Thanks for reminding me. Maybe you should just try to move on. - I don't want to. You need someone who will be there for you every day, when you need him. - Soldiers need someone to love them, too. Especially at times when they can't express their love for others, or even themselves. What would our country be like if the soldiers gave up their fight, like people want me to give up my love for Joel?
People tell me: It's way too early to be feeling the things that I feel for Joel. "You've only known each other, been talking to each other, since January, you can't possibly feel real love this early. You haven't even talked on the phone yet, you don't know what his voice sounds like. You don't know very much about him. How can you be in love already? How can you give him your heart this soon?" - Sometimes things just happen. Sometimes you just fall, and you can't stop it. Sometimes you don't want to stop it. Sometimes you just know, things just click, from the very beginning. Does it matter that we haven't talked on the phone? Does it matter that I don't know what his voice sounds like? No, not really. Yes, it seems weird in a way. Yes, I want to hear him say my name, say I love you. But that doesn't make me love him any less.
I know that all that people say, they're just saying to try to make me feel better. And I appreciate that they care enough to try to make me feel better. But I also know that no matter what they say, it won't change how I feel. It won't change the worry, it won't change the love. It won't stop the tears from falling from worry, nor will it stop the smiles through the tears from thoughts of him. There's only one person that will be able to change anything right now, and that's Joel. I will continue to pray every night that he's okay and that I do hear from him soon. I ask for your prayers for him also, pray to whoever you pray to. And tune in tomorrow for Obsessed with Tuesday.

Sunday Family Fundays - Easter Sunday

Happy Easter ya'll!
So this blog post will revolve around Easter and since Easter is a holiday - and holidays are family days - it still fits under Sunday Family Funday.
 So first off - The Easter Bunny (the one that you "visited" at the mall) was never a big hit with me, much like most things in costumes - Easter Bunny, Santa, Clowns, etc. Mom says that we don't have a picture of me on one of their laps where I wasn't crying. Classic, of course. But if you think about the idea of the Easter bunny, as is presented to kids, it is actually pretty weird and therefore scary. A giant bunny - who you go visit at the mall, but don't actually talk to, just take your picture with him (at least when you visit Santa you tell him what you want for Christmas!) and then he comes to your house and hides eggs all around the house, and your Easter basket. The only good thing about the Easter bunny was that he brought candy every year. But before you got the candy - you had to find your basket and eggs. (Parents torturing their kids is the real tradition.)

Stylin' on Easter Morning

Chowin' down after finding the baskets

After eating breakfast, we got all dressed up in our "Easter Dresses" - when we were real little this outfit usually included a big fancy hat and white gloves. White shoes too, I think. We'd go to Church then after Church everyone made their way to Grandma and Grandpa Cobb's house for the Easter Egg Hunt and Easter Lunch/Dinner. (Our "easter eggs" at grandmas were always the plastic hollow eggs that she'd put candy and coins in- the best kind of eggs!) 

I remember one year, Grandma couldn't remember all the hiding spots of the eggs, that took forever. Another year, a squirrel found the eggs before we could and ate through the plastic and the wrapper and ate all the chocolate inside. That was a memorable Easter. I guess we didn't need any extra chocolate anyways - there was always PLENTY in the Easter basket. 

Showing off our Easter loot at Grandmas

Part of the Gang at Grandmas

Just had a great Skype date with my mom, stepdad, brother, Mike - and his girlfriend, Hailey, sister, Erin - and niece, Cora and the Monell gang - Aunt Lisbeth, Hannah, and Jacob - I'm guessing Uncle Tracy was watching baseball. That was great. I miss them all, but the great thing about technology is now we have skype dates and I can still see and talk to them all. It's like I'm ALMOST there! One day I'll be back there. But yeah, apparently the Easter Bunny has upped his game since we were kids - now he brings things other than just candy and sun glasses! The kids got toys, and Jacob even got "designer duct tape"! Jealous. Although right now, I'd just settle for the candy. 

Anyways, Back to homework for me. Love all the family that are reading this today! 

Come back tomorrow for Maddening Young Love Monday - maybe we'll have something to update on, maybe not. Not sure, today's not over yet!

Silly Saturday - Drunk through Osmosis?

Can you get drunk through Osmosis?
So last night was the Fugue benefit - raising money for our literary journal here at UI. (All you non-UI peeps should subscribe to it.) Anyways the benefit was great. Lots of fun. Great readings! And lots of alcohol - of course. There's always alcohol involved with MFA events.
Anyways, the alcohol was for sale - that's one of the "fundraising" things they did. I didn't drink at all - as I have $5 in my bank account and 1 beer was $4. But I sure felt drunk by the time I got home. Aleks says we got drunk through Osmosis. Because there was so much alcohol in the room, it just went through our skin and we got drunk that way. I'll buy it. Because I definitely felt drunk.
Or maybe it was the brownies - either too many of them, or whoever made them snuck something in them. I had a lot of brownies. Too many. It was probably just an extreme sugar high and high on being around people instead of hiding in my apartment worrying about everything.
I don't know what it was. Still worried about Joel though.  Still nothing from him. Don't know where that boy is. I'm kind of scared.
Anyways. I have nothing else for today. My mind isn't very awake yet. Come back tomorrow for Sunday Family Funday and Easter!

Flashback Friday - Thinking of the Summer

Flashback Friday: Common thing among all these - thinking of the summer to come.
A Week Ago: I was frantically trying to write a 5-6 page literature review without reading the whole articles of many that I had to discuss in the paper. Needless to say, I got it done - 45 minutes late, but still got it in. I realized that the next day it might not have fully answered the question that I had asked in it, but we'll see what my professor thinks.
A Month Ago: I was extremely relieved and celebrating (on my own) that Joel returned home after being deployed for a month. It's always good to hear from him, but especially on that day with that news! (I keep praying that I hear from him soon, again, it's been 2 weeks now.)
6 Months Ago: (This is a new addition to Flashback Friday.) It would have been my first full month in Grad School. I probably was extremely homesick (as I am now) and still not quite sure what Grad school was and what were expected of. I don't think I quite knew where I fit in with everyone yet - as in my writing. I didn't really know what I was doing yet.
1 Year Ago: I was doing research on the Mysterious State of Idaho. Got my first and only acceptance letter, after many rejections, so I was doing research to see what exactly I was getting myself into.
5 Years Ago: I was a Penn Stater. Getting ready for the end of the semester and to go back home. Was trying to figure out what I was going to do that summer after the semester ended. Brandon had an internship at NASA. I was trying to decided whether to stay in State College so I'd be closer to him (in Maryland) or go home.
10 Years Ago: I was still able to enjoy Papa Cobb. This was the year before he passed away. Miss that man. We were no doubt getting ready for the B- Mets Baseball season.

Hopefully next week I'll have something excited to update on for the 1 week ago report. Hoping to hear from Joel today!

Throwback Thursday - Boybands from Middle School

This week's Throwback Thursday is dedicated to all the Music crazes that existed when "we" (as in I) were in middle school. There's a lot of good ones between all the boy bands - oh yeah, it was during boy band madness - and the one hit wonder songs...
So the first place to start would be the boy bands... I remember there were competitions on which one was better than the others... Great times!
1) Backstreet Boys

I'll never break your heart

I believe for most teenage girls at my school - BSB was THE Boy band at the time. Brian (always my favorite), Nick, Howie, AJ, and Kevin. As my friend Zac pointed out - I'm glad we had "that one dude tracing a tear down his face" - we wouldn't have know what emotion to feel if we didn't have him. I'm not sure what made them better than the others, but that was the general census. You didn't go to a boy band concert if it wasn't Backstreet Boys. I guess in this way I was always a rebel - went to a 98 degrees concert for my first concert, ever, I think. And had a NSYNC boardgame...
2) NSYNC

 Tearin' Up My Heart

NSYNC was the second coolest boyband at the time. I always thought that they were better than BSB, but that's part of what made me "uncool" I suppose. And yes as stated earlier - I had the NSYNC board game. It was a backstage pass game, where your goal was to "get the backstage pass" and you either had to collect all the guys in the band or you were one of the guys as your marker - I forget. But yes .. there was a game, I don't think there was a BSB boardgame - so there! Justin, JC, Lance, Joey, and Chris made up this fab. band! They generated many, many screams and fads - the Bye Bye Bye dance! 

3) 98 Degrees 

 I Do, Cherish You

98 Degrees were the third big boy band of my middle school days... There were, apparently, not equal to the other two bands. When I was so excited because my parents got my tickets to their concert, I was laughed at because it was 98 Degrees, and not NSYNC or BSB - SIGH. Middle School is so stuff. Nick, Drew, Justin and Jeff... they were just as hot, just as good at singing, and just as good at choreography. And their videos look way cooler - most of them. But alas, they weren't as cool then.  (Rumor has it they're doing a reunion tour at the end of this year)

4) And of course, we can't talk about boybands without talking about some of the original ones. 

New Kids On the Block - my sisters first concert. 

Boys II Men

All For One

And of course, the original boy band with Boys in it - Jackson 5

Come back tomorrow for Flashback Friday! 

Welcome to ... Life... Wednesday

Welcome to Life...
That's what I'm told. It's all part of life, so get used to it. Why do people think that this is comforting to hear when you're going through grief? It's not. At least not for me. Yes, I know it's been a long time since my Grandfather died - 9 years exactly today  - and yes, I know it's supposed to get better, easier as time goes on. But sometimes it doesn't. There are some people that you can't just forget, you can't just get over. My grandfather was not only my grandpa - Papa Cobb, but he was my dad, my best friend, my inspiration in everything, my drive in life. He was everything to me! So today I will be remembering great times with him.
I remember when he turned 65 - almost exactly a month before he passed away. He told me that was the one goal he had in his adult life - was to make it to 65. Once he made it to that birthday he knew my grandma would be taken care of through Social Security and he'd be able to be truly happy and go on to God's plans after that. That was the most important thing to him.
I love that man. Will always love him. Miss him more than anything and anyone. And I will never get "used" to him not being around.
So Welcome to Life - because people are always going to be leaving - it's part of life, yes. But get used to it - this will never happen.

Kate and Papa Cobb

Papa Cobb 

Football Team with the SparCat Trophy - Trophy in honor of Papa Cobb 

Tune in tomorrow for Throwback Thursday!

Obsessed with Tuesday - Ernest Hemingway

A special April hidy to all my readers tonight!

So today's Obsessed with Tuesday is focused on my obsession/love for Ernest Hemingway - the man and his writing, both.

So Hemingway is my dead, old man crush. I don't know why, because as many people tell me "he hated women." While I think that he did "hate" (hate is such a strong and definitive word) some women, I don't think he hated all women. My reasoning for this is that if he hated all women, as people claim he did, he wouldn't have been able to write these brilliant and moving romances - A Farewell to Arms, the masterpiece - like he did. Now some would not be fans of his writing, so they wouldn't view him writing these successfully novels like I did. But that's beside the point. 

So I first got into Hemingway when I was a Freshman in college. My English professor had us all go around and list our "favorite" author, or a book/author that we were recently reading at the time. At this point I hadn't done much "leisure" reading and couldn't think of anything I had recently read - completely forgetting my favorite book from high school, Catcher in the Rye. I wanted to claim someone that is respectable and "famous" as my "favorite" and the first name that came to my mind was Hemingway, even though I had never read his writing before. His name was one of those names that I SHOULD have read by then. So after I stated that Hemingway was my favorite author, I thought that now I should probably read something of his, just so I know whether I really like him or not. The Sun Also Rises was my first experience of Hemingway and I fell in love immediately. 

Over the years I have grown to love all of his work and have developed this odd passion for him. I talk about him and his writing as if I would talk about a lover at times. I discuss the amount of emotion, passion and just information that he could fit into one small sentence, one small paragraph, one small space. I envy this. I wish I could write like this. Some people view it as minimalistic - I'm not sure if that's the right term for Hemingway. Some think of it as simple. Even though the sentence structure is simple, with subject, object, verb, the writing is not simple at all. I actually view it as more complex as someone like Faulkner because Hemingway crams all of what he is trying to say in a few words, where as someone like Faulkner rambles on for five lines - all in the same sentence, using words, often, that not a lot of people (especially these days) don't know what it means unless they look it up. 

So I'm not sure what it is about Hemingway the man that I love - maybe just the "macho, manly-ness" of him is what I love. I don't know that. But I can go on and on about what it is about his writing that I love, but at the same time, I'm not sure if I'd be able to do it justice. Not sure if I'd be able to explain it enough. 

Why this comes up now is because I was looking at classes that are being offered next semester, getting ready to register, and I noticed that there is finally going to be a class on just Hemingway. I have been waiting for this since the first time I read The Sun Also Rises. I had taken an American Literature course at Penn State (that studied writing at his time) and was shocked, appalled, and amazed that we did not read one thing by Hemingway. I still to this day don't understand how that could happen. But whatever, it did. So now not only will I be able to read Hemingway in class, but it's a whole class devoted to his short fiction - AND it's taught by one of my favorite professors - Ron McFarland, who is awesome. I can't wait! 

Anyways, enough about Hemingway - for now at least. Come back tomorrow for Welcome to... Wednesday! 

Maddening Young Love Monday - because Stormy said so

Maddening Young Love Monday - Just Because Stormy said I still had to write - even though there's not much to update on - Still madly in love ... still waiting to hear from him again... :-/
I just don't think about it anymore. Try not to at least. Try not to worry. Keep reminding myself that he's not like the past guys I've dated and just because it's been a "while" since I've heard from him doesn't mean that he's not interested anymore, that he's cheating, that he's not thinking about me, or whatever... So being patient... Just wish I had even a word from him.
Anyways. That's about it for today - tomorrow is Obsessed with Tuesdays - way more exciting post for tomorrow.
Night ya'll!

Sunday Family Funday - April Fool's Day with Grandma

Well, today is the first of April - that means that it's Dylan and Miri's birthday and April Fool's Day! So I'm going to dedicate this blog to Grandma Cobb, who never failed to miss an April Fool's day.
Sunday Family Funday - April Fool's Day with Grandma Cobb:
When we were in Elementary School (which is formally known as Grammar School - but we didn't learn much grammar, so it's Elementary School) Grandma Cobb was the babysitter. It was convenient because her and Papa lived right down the road - 2 houses down. So before and after school we'd hang out with Grandma. And of course, like all Grandmas, she'd always spoil us with breakfast before and snacks after school. She was always this sweet, loving, caring woman - one of the best people I ever knew - except for April 1st every year. She ALWAYS played April Fool's jokes on us, I think she enjoyed it more than most people. Her favorite jokes (and when I say favorite jokes I mean the ones that she did over and over again) was to replace the sugar with salt and milk with chocolate milk. I think she did those every year and would ALWAYS laugh when we fell for it. By the 4th or 5th grade, I began to catch on and start thinking of jokes to play on her. One year I replaced her coffee with hot chocolate milk when she was out of the room. I thought this was pretty clever. She loved that I got into the April Fool's day spirit. Miss her, but I know she's watching over me every day, today waiting to see if I will get any jokes played on me. (She's probably the reason for the snow on the first day of April - Grandma playing her jokes from heaven. haha)

Grandma Cobb and me <3 

Anyways, Come back tomorrow for Maddening Young Love Monday - and boy am I going mad. haha.

Silly Saturday - "Happy" Movies that Still Scare me to death

Today's Silly Saturday is about two movies that for most people are movies they grew to love as kids, but for me - I have always been deathly afraid of them. Wizard of Oz and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Wizard of Oz and that Wicked Witch of the West and her flying monkeys:
Most people love this movie- including my mom. I still can't even listen to the wicked witch's music. My mom says that when I was little I would go running - practically sprinting - into my room and hide under the covers whenever they'd watch this movie. And the loving, caring sister that I have, would enjoy playing the movie just to watch me run. (I wouldn't be surprised if she just skipped right to the part with the Wicked Witch in it.) Sisterly love. But if you really think about it - there is something inherently frightening about this "person." First of all - she is green. Why, I don't know. But the fact that she was green, scared me straight off. Green people = not good. Second - she spied on you (assuming that you were worthy of being spied on) through her "magic globe". She's almost like the evil Santa Clause (always knows what you're doing, when you're doing it, and where you are). Why would I want a green person spying on me. Third - that laugh. It just screams "I am evil! Fear me!" There's always an evil laugh with bad people in movies. You are supposed to fear the laugh. The laugh is how you know that that person is really the villain in the movie, because sometimes characters can be presented as the villain but aren't really. You have to watch for the laugh! Fourth - doesn't she not only spy on Dorthy but also admits out loud that she is going to kidnap Toto - the dog, and also locks Dorthy up in a room high up and the hour glass thing! "I'll get you, my pretty. And you're little dog, too!" Fourth, and maybe most important - the flying monkeys. The flying monkeys are frightening on their own. But when you add them with the Wicked Witch. Then you have one frightening team. These monkeys are terrifying. Who ever thought of flying monkeys?! And it would be one thing if they were like cartoon flying monkeys - that look friendly and nice. But these monkeys just look evil. Wicked Witch of the West and the flying Monkeys made the Wizard of Oz - normally a beloved movie - terrifying for me.
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - this one people are always astonished at. The reason being they only remember the happy singing moments - the flying car - Dick Van Dyke and all. The always seem to forget the evil Witch/Wizard/ Warlock guy. Everyone forgets about him and the Queen (I think she was a Queen - who claimed to eat kids) - how could they forget about this?! I mean not only does this guy spy on the kids through the window (again with the spying through glass). But he then lures them outside with his "ice cream truck", pretends to be the ice cream man, somehow gets them in the back of the truck, locks them in there and takes them to the Queen. How is this not frightening people?!?! Plus just looking at the guy he looks creepy. Almost like Snape with the long black greasy hair (maybe that's where J.K. Rowling got the idea from) - but Snape isn't creepy, presented as evil at times, yes, but never creepy. Whereas this guy has PURE CREEP written across his forehead, practically.
Now what is even more terrifying than these two villains - is when you combine them. Oh yeah, that's right, we're going there. One night, I had one of the most terrifying nightmares I've ever had. It still - to this day - sits on the top 10, if not top 5 scariest nightmares I've had. In the dream - no nightmare. In the nightmare. It was Christmas Eve and my sister and my brother were sleeping in my bed, (we always slept in the same bed on Christmas Eve so no one could sneak out to see Santa - usually it was in my sister's bed because it was bigger. But for some reason that "year" it was my bed.) And we were all getting "tucked in" by mom and dad when I looked out into the hallway and in the bathroom (you could see inside the bathroom from my room) was the Flying Monkeys from Wizard of Oz AND the warlock, wizard guy from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Why they were hanging out in my bathroom and how they got there - I have no idea, that's not the point. They were in the bathroom - in the house. Now we're going to jump around a little because I only remember parts of it - try to forget the whole thing, but can't shake it. So the evil ones kidnapped Me, My brother, My mom and my Dad. Somehow my sister escaped and it was up to her and her friend, Janice - don't ask how she got into this whole mess - to save us. He was taking us to the Queen, of course, so she could eat us. (Not sure what he planned on doing with my parents, since the Queen only ate kids.) But yeah, I remember my sister and Janice could fly - literally fly - like a bird. They literally flew in to save the day. They saved us and we "lived happily ever after". But still to this day - one of the scariest nightmares I have. I have goosebumps just thinking about it.
Anyways, that's all I have for Silly Saturday. That was a long post - made up for the rather short ones all this week.
Come back tomorrow for Sunday Family Funday!!! Thanks for "tuning in".

Flashback Friday!

Hi ya'll. Another Flashback Friday - and the last weekend of March - where is this time going?!
So I'm just going to get right to it again today - maybe tomorrow will be more rambling after I finish this dang paper.
One Week Ago: I was worrying about my essay that was going to be workshopped on that coming Monday. I always get nervous when this happens, but even more so with this essay because it wasn't really a "finished" essay, it was written in the middle of my research, and it was one part of what will be a whole book, so there were A LOT of unanswered questions in the piece. And at the same time - I had just gone to see my pal Jory read from his new chapbook, so I was inspired to write poetry. So I wrote a (probably) horrible poem about Blakelock.
Two Weeks Ago: I was listening to a lot of music and frantically writing that piece for Workshop, trying to get it done by class on Monday - which I did not.
A Month Ago: We were once again getting random snow storms - normal. I was fascinated with the guys that walk around campus with their cowboy hats and boots on. and I was attempting to explain the difference between a thesis statement (for their essays) and the thesis (for my degree) - and find a weird enjoyment from the instant fear in their eyes when I said that it has to be at least 90 pages. Oh, Freshmen. I was also trying to figure out the Leap and Hump Day - both were on the same day in February first - so I posed the question, Do you Leap or Hump First?
A Year Ago: I was celebrating applying for an apartment out here in Idaho with my step dad's homemade pizza. I miss that pizza so much! You can't get good pizza at all out here. (My facebook profile picture from a year ago - Cora in her Penn State outfit! She looked like a little Linebacker then. Love it!)
5 Years Ago: Let's see... That would make it 2007. I imagine I was still getting back into "the swing of things" after returning from Spring Break. Also still making the transition between Hazleton - a small satellite campus - to University Park - a huge main campus - Penn State. I remember this being quite the transition, so I was probably still going crazy then. And this was the Spring that I didn't have Brandon with me, I think. So doing the long distance thing again.

Tune in tomorrow for Silly Saturday!

Throwback Thursday

I have a huge paper due at Midnight tomorrow - well not really huge, just important - so I'm just going to get right to the Throwback Thursday (today's Thursday, right?) Today's Throwback will be to the always entertaining Tim Taylor and Tooltime - aka Home Improvement.

Home Improvement Cast

This show was always funny - even on the serious episodes - there was still some really really funny parts. It never failed in making me laugh. I love it - still. The cast - what a great cast, too. Tim Allen (who is a comedic genius in his own, I think) plays Tim Taylor - the "father" in the family. He is also a TV host on a Home improvement show. Which is the back-line to the show's story-line. The show is called Tool time - Ale Boreland, the Husky gentleman that always wears plaid, played by Richard Karn, is the "side-kick" and assistant to Tim Taylor. Tim is the charismatic, yet extremely clumsy host, while Ale - the assistant is the one that is always watching out for safety issues and appears to know more than Tim about home improvement, tools, and just about anything relating to the show, which sets up a very entertaining and hilarious opposition, at all times.  (And they had Hidie - the "other assistant" - once played by Pamela Anderson, then the part was taken over by Debbie Dunning, a gorgeous brunette instead of blonde. And often times had Bob Villa as a special guest.)















Tim was married to the always witty and sarcastic, Jill Taylor, played by Patricia Richardson and Tim and Jill had three boys - Brad, Randy, and Mark (played by Zachary Ty Bryan, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and Tarran Noah Smith).  I had one of my first TV Star crushes on Randy. Man. I remember having the biggest crush on him. Coincidentally, it was the episode where Randy learns that he might have cancer that was one of the first TV shows that I remember crying during, and the one that Randy goes to Costa Rica for a year.

 (the video quality sucks, so just listen to it.)

And the neighbor - Wilson Wilson, Jr. - whose face we never see below his eyes. Usually there's a fence that covers the rest, but always something hiding it.

It was a great show. Always funny and always true. Instilled my love for Tim Allen (will always be a T.A. fan) and Jonathan Taylor Thomas fan - of course. Now I gotta get to work on the literature review.
Tune in tomorrow for Flashback Friday!

Welcome to... Wednesday - No grammar before grad school

Hi everyone! Another welcome to... Wednesday. Today's post will be about my issues with Grammar.
Welcome to (Grad Writing Program with no prior Grammar Lessons) Wednesday.
So I have learned in my short time in Graduate School so far that I was not taught grammar properly at all in middle school, high school, or undergraduate. I still make the simple mistakes that undergrads do and it's really embarrassing as an English Grad Student. I should not be making these mistakes but I was never taught the correct way to do them before. What I did get (even in high school) was teachers and professors marking my incorrect grammar on my essays and papers, but never explaining to me why it was incorrect and how to do it correctly. Like commas for instance. No matter what I do -whether I use them sparingly or a lot - I always get marked wrong for incorrect comma usage. So now I'm in grad school - in the creative writing program - where my grammar is expected to be nearly perfect, as it should being a grad student in a writing program - but it's not even close to that. Which is a huge problem, obviously. And it makes me feel lesser quality than other students and inadequate as a writer - which I feel is correct in feeling. Since I was never told the "rules" to grammar, my grammar mistakes aren't even consistent. While there are grammar mistakes in just about every paper I write, there are less in some and more in others. And my problems aren't even isolated just to punctuation. They are widespread from punctuation to citations to word choice and spelling. It's quite embarrassing and frustrating because you can't begin to discuss the ideas in the papers and essays until you've gotten past the glaring, grammar issues.
Luckily, I found a professor who will actually sit down with me (like I'm an Undergrad) and go through my essay and all the grammar mistakes I've made. While it may not be ideal, it is what I need right now. So that way I can (hopefully) correct my mistakes before I go further in my degree and begin writing my thesis (or get kicked out). I am so thankful that Ron is willing to do this. I want to approach him about joining my thesis committee because I know I will need someone like him with my writing. Plus I love the guy - he's hilarious and we seem to get along so well, I've found few professors so far that I feel this comfortable with.
Anyways, That's it for Welcome to ... Wednesday. Come back tomorrow for Throwback Thursday!