Contemplative Adoration and Rude Awakenings

I love the smell of the media librarian at the library. It's one of those smells that reassures you that everything will be OK, even if at that particular moment nothing is.

Anyway, this morning could have gone tons better. One of my best friends, Andrew, came over last night and we had a blast catching up on old times. However, in all the excitement, I forgot to eat before I went off to bed. Normally if I eat dinner it's no big deal.

Now for those of you who don't know, I've had problems with hypoglycemia for the better part of my life. I don't usually bring it up however because I've had it under control for a long time. I haven't come close to fainting or going into shock in years, and I don't want people to see me as this sickly person with a horrible disease or anything.

Anyway, I forgot to eat, and I paid for it dearly this morning. I woke up delirious and covered in my own sweat. I could barely move, or even see. It was terrifying.

Mind you, I have been known to function with my blood sugar level at 30. (Normal is 100.) I was afraid if I didn't find a way to move and get something in me, I was going to die in my bed. That would be it. No wedding, no graduation, buying my first house, my first car, nothing.

I finally found the strength to fall out of bed and somehow make it to the kitchen and crack open a soda. It must have been bad, because it took me hours to recover fully.

Never fear though readers, I am alive and well, and functioning just fine now. I'm pretty sure I won't make this mistake again in the future.

Keep it real.

Way Back To OK

The other day I was making my way through the Sharwan Smith Center back to my apartment for some hardcore laundry doing. It was a pretty decent day so far, I was feeling pretty good about life. Even my singleness. I had resolved that I love my single friends a lot, and if I found someone I wouldn't be able to hang out with them nearly as much. Life was good.

That was, until I saw a rather unsavory sight. A young man I had quite amorous feelings toward last semester was holding the hand of his new girlfriend. Not just holding, caressing. The sight immediately sent a chill of bitterness and jealousy down my spine, causing me to feel a lot less than OK about my singlehood.

Damn singlehood.

It took me a solid 36 hours to recover. With the help of a nice visit from my dad accompanied by a free lunch, a delicious pepperoni pizza doused in Frank's Red Hot pepper sauce, commiserating with my also single roommates, clean clothes, and a freezer full of food, I finally felt like I was back where I was before I saw anything. What a relief!

I know that the right guy is out there, and he's amazing, and meeting him will make every trivial relationship and bad date worth it.

It's just a matter of persevering until then. Weeding out the losers, one dud at a time.

Keep it real readers.

What A Night.

So, in order to cement ourselves in the full swing of the semester, the institute put on a FIESTA to welcome everyone back and get reacquainted with the whole student thing. I was pretty excited about it, considering my day could have gone slightly better.

My first class was OK. We watched a boring movie, so basically I signed the roll and left and went down to the library to check my Facebook. My second class we talked about images and how different orientations of visual aids can project a specific mood. Pretty decent if you ask me.

I ran downstairs after class hoping to run into an old friend that I kind of have a thing for, but my hopes were dashed when he wasn't there. Much to my surprise I ran into Jana-boo on my way to work, and we got to talk for a minute. I was pretty glad to see her. We haven't been able to see each other much these days.

My last class was trig, and that was trig-tacular. Not much can be expected from a math class I guess, but we were so caught up in discussing the test next week we didn't have much of a lecture. Woo-hoo!

After that I bolted home, whipped my hair out of the haphazard ponytail I'd created earlier that day, and watched two episodes of my beloved Roswell before my housemate Leslie came in to ask me if I was going to "sexify" myself for the fiesta. Knowing my occasional bad luck with messy food, I explained I didn't want to ruin a cute outfit, and I planned on coming back home after dinner to "sexify" myself after. (We live across the street.)

After refried beans that tasted like burned coffee and massive amounts of queso drowning my poor defenseless tortilla and chips were consumed, and getting in an argument about said bean taste with a kid not worth arguing with, (but arguing makes me feel powerful and alive) I ran into a guy that I've kind of had a mild fascination with that is in my trig class. After a pleasant exchange, he invited me to come to his study group to go over the quiz due on Monday. Without showing too much of my excitement at said invitation, I smiled and accepted. Then Les and I did a mini excited dance in the hallway.

After 20 minutes of Nacho Libre, we headed home to "sexify."

I threw on a cute ensemble, smoked up the eyes, smoothed out the hair, applied an extra layer of rootbeer flavored LipSmackers, and we were out the door.

A guy I recently went out and had a great time with talked me into playing hacky sack, and after realizing I am neither a teenage boy nor a Rastafarian, nor am I in the year 1996, I left the circle. By then he'd invited a few more girls to play, and I wasn't feeling so special after all.

The dance itself was amazing. The dim lighting and loud music lost me in this ecstatic zone of just me, my breath, and dancing. Moving my body to the music, closing my eyes and just doing what I felt. It was beyond great. I stopped caring about how much I was sweating or how hot it was and just got lost in the moment.

I danced with a few guys who were pretty nice, but I think Leslie had the greatest night. She danced with two of the hottest guys in that whole building, one of which she's had a pretty hard crush on for a while.

She was so happy, we went to Denny's and both ate deep-fried goodness until we couldn't move.

What a great night!!

Keep it real readers.

Starting the next chapter

Hello readers, however few of you there are.

I've been thinking about my path in life recently. Where am I going? Am I at least going in the right direction? How do I know?

Growing up I always believed that if I was having deja vus then that was a sign that I was on the right track. I was moving forward, and toward the person I was meant to become.

I liked living with that train of thought. I always felt like I was moving in the right direction. I felt like I was moving forward. Now, it's a little different.

I feel like I'm not moving as fast as I used to, or as fast as I should be. So, I began asking why, and figuring out what I'm not doing, and I realized that it's because I'm ready for the next chapter in my life. Now that my education is on the right track and I have a future career in mind, it's time for what comes next.

It's time for me to let someone in. To fall in love and move toward getting married. Begin taking care of someone else.

So this is starting to get a little ridiculous. I've started dating new people and putting myself out there to find someone, and thanks to recent medical interventions in my life, I don't feel like I'm going to hyperventilate and have a panic attack every time I meet someone new.

I have to admit, I kind of love that. I can have fun and not worry or freak out. I can be me. The real me. More me than I've been in years.

Anyway, that's it for now. Classes are great, life is good.

God is good.

It's all a matter of getting started....

Keep it real.

Trapped In My Family's Loving Arms

Well kids, I was supposed to go back to the great white north (which I call Cedar City, especially this time of year) tonight in order to prepare for a new week of school, adventures with friends, getting further sucked into the seductive world that is the cancelled TV show "Roswell" with my housemates, and of course, the monotonous rigor that is my job. (Don't get me wrong, I love my job, and I'm lucky to have it in these economic times.)

Unfortunately, the snow came. We packed the car with my now clean laundry and finished homework, and headed north. By the time we reached the freeway, it was snowing like crazy. In not so many words, my mother said, "Screw it, I'm not driving you back in this. We'll go tomorrow afternoon."

Now, if this were last semester, I'd be jumping for joy. Living with a messy, whiny prostitute really made coming back to my crappy apartment as unpleasant as one could ever imagine. Not to mention my classes were ridiculous and I dreaded going. However, this semester is entirely different. My classes are amazing, my housemates are magnificent, I met this really great guy and I'm interested in seeing where things are going with him, and I'm happier than I've been in a long time. I was ready to go back to school and get back into my routine and being back in my groove.

But since those hopes are dashed, and I'm missing two of my favorite classes tomorrow and one hour from work. I'm a little bummed.

End of the world.

On another note, I was thinking about the movie "He's Just Not That Into You" the other day. The part when Alex explains to Gigi that those magnificent love stories you hear aren't real. How those people in them are the exception, and the rule is basically everyone else.

Well, that's not entirely true. I mean, yes, those of us who are single and the guy we like isn't calling or whatever, we ARE the rule. But in all honesty, everyone at one point or another was the rule. We, as people, are all the rule. Until we become the exception. Someone's exception. No one stays the rule forever. It's just a matter of finding your exception.

Talk about deep.

Anyway, embrace your inner glasses. I'm going to go watch a movie while craving a bologna sandwich...

My first Blogger blog...

I've been blogging for years on different sites. First, MySpace. But then I became an adult, and realized that the whole MySpace thing was really getting to be a little ridiculous. I cancelled it today. *Happy dance* Then I began publishing "notes" on Facebook, but It just seemed kind of...I'm not sure. But it wasn't positive.

At the urging of Heather, one of my beloved roommates, I decided to give this Blogger thing a try.

How about I give you a little background about myself? Well, My name is Karen. As my heading suggests, I wear glasses. I love them. Glasses make me different. Distinctive. I tried the contacts thing for a while, but I really love the way I feel when I wear glasses. I feel more me.

Moving on...

I'm studying to be a Chemistry teacher at SUU. I'm the ONLY Chem Ed major I've met yet. Ever. What happened to loving the idea of molding young minds with the fascinating field of Chemistry? Maybe one day I'll teach the kid that will cure cancer.

The way I see it, if I became a research chemist (my former passion), then maybe I could be the one making magnificent medical breakthroughs, and that would be awesome. But I'm just one person. If I teach hundreds of students to love Chemistry the way I do, and out of those hundreds of students maybe 30 become chemists, then we're 30 times more likely to find it.

So I'm relinquishing my dream for the GREATER GOOD OF HUMANITY!

I know. I'm so selfless.

At any rate, keep on keepin' on.

Embrace your inner glasses.