skeet, skeet... day 1

3 am: I wake for Idaho prep.
5 am: At airport, checking in.
5:30 am: 2 jazz members are getting sick.
#1 - What a crumby way to start an early morning.
#2 - What a crumby way to start a trip!
-Well, technically, the sick part of the trip was started on Tuesday morning by a jazz band member who didn't make it to the bathroom with their unsettled stomach.
Anyway, despite the puke-factor, the airplane left, en route to Juneau, where we were supposed to catch a flight to Seattle. However, because of bad weather, we overflew Juneau, and went up to Anchorage.
After much sitting, on planes and in airports, we made it to Spokane where we were greeted by a big yellow school bus and its driver, Ralph (I found the name quite fitting for the events leading up to our arrival). The bus was not what we expected. It had no luggage/instrument stowage... Woops. Before loading up for our 1.5 hour trip to Moscow, another jazz member decided to spill their guts outside the airport. Yum.
We got to Idaho and settled into our rooms. My roomies were Coral Pendall, Clea Will and Megan Roderick. -Awesome little quad we made.
While wandering around outside, we noted a nasty smell. What could it be? Cow manure! Yay! I quickly realized why the town was called MosCOW.
On the way to the grocery store for late night goodies, a bundle of us had to dodge a pile of stomach bile out in the parking lot. There was no doubt in my mind that this was going to be quite the trip...

is that a hot tub?

Ce weekend, I went camping with a groovy group at Brent's Beach. We had a lot of fun taking away Robyn's camping virginity. Haha. (It was her first time going camping.) Upon arriving, she asked where the light was... "Well, Robyn, do you have a flashlight? Or a lantern?"
"No," she replied slightly confused.
"Well, then there is no light babe."
"Oh, well, I don't know! I've never been campin'!"
"Haha. Its ok, you will quickly learn... I think."

Three minutes have passed, Robyn is bored with the cabin.

"What's that over there? The hot tub!?" she exclaims.
"Haha. You mean the WOOD SHED, Robyn?"
"Uhh... Yeah, I guess. I didn't know!"
"Well, now you do. No lights, no hot tub. Yes, that's an outhouse."

As you can imagine or cringe to the thought of, it was quite the adventure.

FYI: Personal inquiries about the trip are far more fun.

the first time

Amidst writing my senior paper (which I might add took less than an hour to complete), I came across this. It was written last year, during creative writing as a short dialogue between a guy (Sebastien) and gal (Ani) who are new neighbors in a large apartment complex in the city.

Ani: Oooohhh, Sebastien. Let me catch my breath. That was so amazing!
Sebastien: Yeah? How’d it feel?
Ani: It felt wonderful. It was the best ever. I could feel everything.
Sebastien: Yeah, I made it that way for you. I thought you’d enjoy it.
Ani: And the way you fingered… I was so impressed.
Sebastien: What can I say? I just know how to please women…
Ani: Sebastien, I could experience that every day.
Sebastien: That was only the first time, Ani. You just wait, it gets better… And I was a little nervous this time…
Ani: Nervous? Ha! I couldn’t control any of my emotions. I don’t know what I was. I was so lost in each and every movement of yours. I loved the sounds you made.
Sebastien: It felt good for me too. When I do it, everything inside me comes out; all my feelings, emotions… The only thing is… Do you think it lasted long enough?
Ani: Oh, yes, it was perfect. The way you ended it left me wanting more.
Sebastien: Well, your wants will surely be fulfilled because soon enough, there will be more.
Ani: God Sebastien, I’m so glad we’re neighbors. You’re experienced and I can tell you know what you’re doin’. I’ll definitely be back for more of your guitar playing…

made in the philippines

While dressing this morning, I noticed that my pants were made in the Philippines. “Yay, mine were made in Mali. Big woop. Glad you can read,” you might say. But no. Yeah, I I already know many small children and sad women in no bueno countries endlessly work in huge factories, getting paid probably less than a dollar per hour. It seems unfair that these people would be forced into such grueling labor, however, imagine the perks…
Free defective clothing!
Overseas, I’ve bet everyone’s got name brand style, and gadzooks of clothes. At some point in my life, I will make it a point to go to an area near several clothing factories, and I will observe. I’m sure it would be no surprise to see Tamir Pakistan (a random factory worker in the Middle East) and the rest of his family all decked out in defective Abercrombie and Fitch clothes. And I bet their neighbors, abundantly fitted in Nike everything. If I worked in a factory over there, I’d work for J. Crew.

one comment is all it takes

Someone got a little riled up over a past post...

dreads girl says: so how are things?
Elaina says: fine. Who is this?
dreads girl says: this is dreads girl, with dreadlocks. “dirty” ones
Elaina says: Oh ok.
dreads girl says: well.. basically i wanted to clear the whole "blog" thing up
Elaina says: Haha alright. You must realize, I characterize my blogs, so I don’t know what there is to “clear up.”
dreads girl says: first off, if you’re going to post things on the internet which is for web surfing for all around the world, make sure you think about who is going to read it
Elaina says: I do think about who is going to read it and "I don’t care what others think."
dreads girl says: if you don’t care about who is going to read it, and you found out that i did. you shouldn’t have yelled at “he-who-told-me-about-it”
Elaina says: Haha.. I didn’t yell at “he-who-told-you-about-it.” I just thought it was funny that he came to you and directly told you.
dreads girl says: he told me about a website and he said this girl talked very highly of me but after i read it, i noticed he read it from a guys point of view and didn’t totally catch the whole last part where you really threw in your 2 cents
Elaina says: Haha.
dreads girl says: and when you post stuff like that up, i noticed there was a slot for comments so i made mine. but somehow, it magically disappeared after a few hours. why is it, elaina, that you can be opinionated yet others can not?
Elaina says: Hmm. Let’s think about that. Maybe because its my web page?
dreads girl says: what does it matter? others have their opinions up on "your" web page. shouldnt i have the right, since that little "blog" of yours was about me, to defend myself?
Elaina says: Why don’t you just calm down?
dreads girl says: i love it and i am quiet honored you decided to make a whole post all about me. thats great. but i am just pissed off because you took mine off there. i liked it. i thought it was clever and i should be able to post a responce to your blog if i like. right? i mean, that is what the comment slot is for right?
Elaina says: Girrrrlll... You crazy!
dreads girl says: everyone needs constructive critizism.
Elaina says: In that case, its spelt criticism.
dreads girl says: i am a terrible speller
Elaina says: Yeah, I noticed, but I was just being constructive…
Elaina says: Ok, so what's the point of this?
dreads girl says: put my post back up
Elaina says: Come on, I have no grudges. -I wrote a silly little story and besides, I can’t put it back up. Its deleted forever and always. Well, actually, I just took away the comments option
dreads girl says: silly it is elaina, they annoy me anyway. so, stick that option back up there. And don't talk shit about people on your web page if you can't accept critisism
Elaina says: I can accept whatever I want and how am I not accepting? I’m listening to your bleeding heart../
dreads girl says: elaina. just put the comment box back up. its only fair
Elaina says: This is so stupid, life isn’t fair. Why don’t we just call in the school counselor?
dreads girl says: why don't you just be reasonable about this
Elaina says: I am being reasonable about this. I’m actually protecting you from people laughing at your crap.
dreads girl says: that wasnt crap i put up! it was a well written opposition. you asked what the point of this is... dont talk shit about someone, post it on the internet and then not expect them to make a comment about it
seriously now, i have tests to study for. you can have your opinion. but just let me have mine
Elaina says. Haha. Good one. “Here's my opinion! Bye!”
dreads girl says: clever
Elaina says: Haha. I know. Nice meeting you
dreads girl says: you r immature, you cunt
Elaina says: Interesting.. I wonder who is more immature now…

playin' with the pros

Last night we, ze SHS Jazz Band, rehearsed with Chuck Findley. Dang, that guy can squeal! Probably because, like me, his favorite color is brown! -Well, that's how it appeared because he was wearing brown Levi's, a brown button-down shirt, and a brown jacket. And to top it off, he has brown hair, and a brown beard. Anyway, rehearsal went pretty smooth; we just worked him into all of our songs playin' a couple of solos, no sweat.

Today, however, was a new day.

While waiting backstage, listening to the Kayhi Jazz Band, I noticed Mr. Findley being very friendly. He was minglin' with all sorts (which seems quite uncommon for the pros). About 2 minutes prior to our performance, he approached Greg and asked, "So, what key is 'All of Me' in?"
Greg looked at him, baffled, and said, "Uhh... Yeah..." and began to pull out his music.
I, too, was staring in disbelief, thinking, "What? This guy is a pro. And this song is a well-known song, and he doesn't know which notes to play? Yikes."
As I leaned in a little closer, trying to decipher the key in which the song was to be played, I noticed the stale smell of booze on Mr. Findley's breath. The man was half in the bag!
Just before going on stage, he and I (personally) debated whether we should, "break a leg" or "blow a lip." (A bit of a brass player's inside joke...) He ended up playin' alright, minus his complaints of the lights being way too bright... And forgetting to play one time at the end of song... Other than that, he just smiled, blew his heart out, and enjoyed himself...

btw... i'm the coolest

The other night I met a girl whom is obviously totally, awesomely earthy, nice, fun, laidback, hot, and just in general the coolest, and I wish I WAS her!
This certain someone is so cool, that they graduated high school early (which makes her the same age as me), to come to Sitka and go to Sheldon Jackson College! Not only that, but this gal is also cool enough to have dreadlocks, and a bead in her bangs.
Though this chick has many more hip attributes, I really enjoyed the way she reminded me, "By the way, I don't judge people."
HAHA! What kind of line is that?

#1 - If you feel that you don't judge, then cool. -Keep it to yourself. Its not something you need to announce to insure your cool factor.

#2 - Saying you don't judge people is like saying that you never care what others think. -I hate to break it y'all, but its human nature (to an extent). I mean sure, its a great idea to try to judge people as little as possible, and also to do as much as you can without caring what people think. However, as humans, it still happens.

#3 - Dreadlocks are dirty

eat fresh, everyday

*Humm... Humm... Doo-dot... Deee...* I was just humming away, delivering the papers yesterday when I walked into the airport and saw three Native ladies seated directly in front of the door chowing down on Subway. They looked vaguely familiar, but I wasn't sure why.
After I passed them and was filling the newspaper rack, I felt eyes burning into my back. I turned around, made awkward eye contact with all three of them, while they paused chewing, and then I looked down at the paper. I looked back at them. Back at the paper. Back at them. And back at the paper.
They were on the front page! They were the two sisters and mother of the lady who MURDERED her boyfriend in Angoon or whatever little village! The newspaper explains that the woman had her trial in Sitka and that she would be sentenced to 45 years. Above the article was a picture of the murderer and the three female family members (in the background).
As soon as I finished filling the rack, one of them hurried over and bought a newspaper, sat down, and all three of them hunched over the paper, while continuing to eat their Subway.
-It almost seems like a commercial... "So, consumers, when you find out your daughter/sister has been charged with murder and is going to be in jail for the next 45 years, just grab a Subway sandwich... Eat fresh, everyday (despite the circumstances)..."

god's blog

Sunday, Day 7
Hey everyone. I'm really not going to write much today; I'm kind of beat. But I'm sure I've given you a lot to chew on in the past several days, with the creation of Existence and everything. So, well, I'm going to catch a few winks, and we'll start up again on Sunday. Be good to each other.
posted by God at 9:30 am

Comments: Your Magnificence and Love inspire us all. Rest well, and know that we are ready to serve for you because you are worthy.
Rafael - Day 7 - 9:35 am

Hey! If anyone deserves a break, You sure do! Catch ya on the flip side!
Gabriel - Day 7 - 9:39 am

This stuff is boring--hurry up and get to the begetting! I wanna read about all the begetting!!
Lucifer - Day 7 - 10:24 am

where's cupid when I need him?

Holy smokes this is a busy month! I've already had a couple of college apps due, and I still have all of the following:

Feb. 9 - Senior Project 20 Hours and Journal due
Feb. 10-12 - Sitka Jazz Fest (Yeah, I'm such a cool 'boner.)
Feb. 14 - Valentine's Day (What will I do for all of my loved ones!?)
Feb. 16 - Senior Project Paper due
Feb. 23-27 - Jazz Fest @ U. of Idaho (Heck yeaaah!)

And March isn't looking too much better... I have more senior project stuff to complete, Basketball Regionals in Juneau, softball starts, trip to Vancouver for AP Human Geography, more essays due... and the list goes on! Yikes.
Why do they do all this to us? I feel like I'm trapped in a sweaty armpit that will never dry! -Ok, well maybe not quite, but still...

Helter skelter (yes, those are actual English words, meaning "however" or nonetheless"), I'm pretty sure that I'm not the only one stressed out this month.
I was at the post office the other day mailing a lil' something-something for my lil' someone-someone. After the female counter agent "rung-up" my postage costs, she articulated, "That will be $3.85, please."
So, I dug in my pant pocket, retrieved a ten dollar bill and handed it over. After she placed it in the cash register, she pulled out some bills and coins and said, "$5.10 is your change." I looked at her, a bit confused, thinking, "Hmm... Did she mispeak? Or is she going to hand me more change...?"
She didn't notice her mistake, but instead motioned for me to move aside so that she could help the next custmer! Baffled, I turned away, and began to count my change. $5.10? No. She had given me the correct amount of change, $6.15. I guess she just felt like saying, "Five-ten"?

Anyway, the moral of the story is that its February, and no one should have to work or go to school... Instead, we should all just get free, paid vacations to Disneyland or Europe (with your loved one if you want, since it is the month of V-day). -Choose your own adventure.

woot-woot!

As of 9:24 PM, I have completed AND submitted 2/4 (Gonzaga and Seattle U) college applications! -Please refrain from clapping until the end, but thank you. I feel like I've had some seriously heavy slime lifted from my shoulders... Whew (as I wipe the sweat from my forehead and brow).

Speaking of brows...
I hate when you're tooling along, living your life, and you suddenly realize that one of your eyebrow hairs has grown so large that it's curling down in front of your peripheral vision or its just tweaking out all weird-like. You think you can easily find it and root it out, but you grasp at it with your fingers and you can't seem to touch it. It's like a desert mirage.
So you look in a mirror and discover that the mutant hair has reverted to its secret identity. Part of the flock. Just hanging out with lots of other nondescript, normal-sized hairs. And then you leave and go do something else and what happens? That's right. The beast is back on the job. Other eyebrow hairs run screaming from its monstrous presence. Unfortunately, you have to go to class. And you sit in class. And you don't look at anybody. Because you're scared of someone getting smart and saying, "Hey, no one gave me a handout of the homework. Elaina, could you use your eyebrow hair to lasso me a copy?"