Have I mentioned?

My dreams sometimes freak me out. Additionally they also frequently annoy me-- in the "what the heck was that supposed to mean" sort of way, or the "that would never happen" sort of way.

The "what the heck was that supposed to mean" ones generally leave me feeling confused, or disoriented. They make me wonder if things I thought were true are really not true, or they make me think that something that I really desire may eventually come true. Inevitably, this happens as soon as I've come to terms with the fact/thought/made up ideal that I'm holding on to an unrealistic dream.

The "that would never happen" dreams just leave me irritated because I feel like they have no meaning, no substance. They usually consist of people from different parts of my life being in the same place. For example, people from church and people from work, all living together in one house, working for a church that is functioning as a corporation... Or people from church sending updates on church events to the evilK e-mail, and everyone at work acting as though this is important information for them to know. Now that I type them here, they seem to make more sense, but still... What's with my mixing people up? It's not like I make an effort to separate the people at work from the people at church--maybe it's just like everyone is just one GREAT BIG part of my family.

Sorry for the random post on dreams... I thought it was just going to be a quick thought. Oh well--It's not like it's any surprise to anyone that I am longwinded... :)

A Perfect Pairing

It was June of 2004 when I met the main guy in my life. It was a sweltering day, and naturally I was outside. I had stumbled out of bed early that morning to help my roommate set up for the Reno Mustang Car Club's summer car show. I was in charge of getting the people who had pre-registered all signed in. It was quite a busy morning, but by afternoon, there was nothing left for me to do but hang out and have a good time.
I wandered around the lot checking out all of the cars (and their owners of course, on the off chance that one WASN'T middle-aged) and all of the vendor booths. The vendor booths seemed far more lucrative than the cars. The Humane Society adopt-a-pet van turned out to be the best booth of them all. Right when I walked in, his round green eyes caught mine, and I knew right away that he was the one for me. As I drew closer, it was obvious that the affection was not one-sided, and that he was eager to be mine.
I didn't want to make any rash decisions, so I went back to the table and discussed the situation with my roommate. She agreed that we should check out the situation with him. We headed back to the van and stepped inside. By this time, there were other people checking out my guy. I found myself getting really jealous, and I had to step outside and pray that to God that no one would snatch this guy away from me. I could tell that he didn't really like any of the others as much as he liked me, and so I was still hopeful.



And the rest is history. Smokey came home with me that night. Since that point he has been my prime source of cuddling and the inspiration for many photographs.

The Epitome of Pride (writing exercise)

I hate the texture of unrequited love, its steel wool courseness rubbing my insides raw--
began my first attempt at a novel. A real flesh and blood novel, that came from my hands, my heart. I had finished it and was certain it was something people around the world HAD to read. My best friend, of course, saw the reality of the situation and tried to convince me that it was crap. In fact, not only was it crap, it was a "festering pile of crap." But my mind was made up. The literary community was about to reveal a "gem of a novel." I would be praised for my willingness to share my TRAGIC TALE OF HEARTBREAK.

The places we went together still stand firm, icons of what was never mind. I see his face in the spackle on my wall, the threads of my favorite sweater, the iris of my eyes. His voice still whispers to me in the silence of the night, waking me from dreams of him. Oh, that I could use that same steel wool to scour away the memories of him.

Bobbi warned me that it was over the top. She begged me to cut back on the "flowery language" and the melodramatic "woe is me" air of it all, but what would she know. I was convinced that she just didn't understand--that if she had been in my situation, as many people certainly have, it would all make sense to her. I ignored her advise and maxed out my credit card paying for the copying, binding, and mailing off of one hundred complete manuscripts, one hundred pieces of my soul. With that many copies going out, I was certain that at least one editor would fall in love with my creative masterpiece. I remained confident and positive, even as the rejection letters began pouring in.
Then I received the letter that changed it all, that announced defeat.

Dear Miss Sapstrom,
I have no words to express my complete and total distaste with this book--So I'll offer you the words of the famous Dorothy Parker:
"This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force."
Preferably into the nearest rubbish bin or fireplace.

I would advise you to reconsider your plans of becoming a novelist.

Thank you for your submission,
Jonna Feo


I called Bobbi, and I bawled and sputtered my way through the letter. I bared my devastation as I imagined my dreams splattering on the ground like a waterballoon on a searing summer day. And as best friends do, she gave me everything I needed--support, encouragement, and prayer; and in true Bobbi fashion, an aptly timed, "I told you so."

Comedy or Drama?

I was at work this week (as is the case with most weeks) and one of my co-workers told me about a new movie coming out starring Samuel L. Jackson. Apparently, the movie is about a terrorist plot that takes place 30,000 feet in the air that involves terrorists letting snakes loose on a plane full of people. Sounds interesting enough, right?
Then my co-worker tells me the title... Snakes on a Plane...
I, of course, being the logically minded person that I am, laughed at him when he told me this. I thought it was a joke; after all, the title Snakes on a Plane sounds like a wonderful title for a comedy. I thought he was making it up. But the sad truth of the matter is that he was not. The movie really is called Snakes on a Plane. I even confirmed it with the Internet Movie Database.
And apparently there is even a scene in which, after the snakes were let loose, the flight attendant comes into the cabin and yells, "EVERYBODY RUN!!!" And of course the passengers are all thinking, "Where am I supposed to run? I'm on a blasted PLANE!!!!"

Tales from Vacation

So, as predicted, I have not yet written anything, but as previously mentioned, I decided that the cleaning process and resting in general was more important. The good news is that the cleaning is almost done. I just have a few loads of laundry to do and put away and I'll be set. Everything is FINALLY unpacked. (Only took me 7 months!) I have slept more than any human should, but mostly because I have somehow re-acquired the cold of doom and I need/want it to go away by the weekend... GRRR. Then again, it could be allergies with the spring weather kicking in and increased time spent around the cats. (Yes, I am allergic to cats... :oD)
I will be happy to hopefully have some time tomorrow to start writing, maybe get an outline going on my corkboard. Yeah!

On another note, for anyone who's participating in my small group/blog group/whatever you want to call it, I posted a short short story and a new exercise for anyone who's up for the challenge.

Cleaning or Writing?

I am on vacation this week. I had intended to spend my vacation writing, and getting a little bit of cleaning done. But right now, I'm feeling like the cleaning is the more important aspect of my week. I need to make my space into something functional that I can keep up so that I will enjoy being here and therefore be able to write here. But later, I may take a break from cleaning and go to Starbucks or something to write. And at some point during all of this, I have to take some time to go running at the Marina and check on Russ & Becca's cats and make some phone calls. (Russ is my bro.) So I guess what I'm doing right now is creating a virtual to-do list. I'd really like to be able to write 50 pages again this vacation, but I'm feeling like taking care of myself and my environment is more important right now. We'll see what happens with that. :)

The Great Amos Adventure

Hi all!
I just wanted to make a quick post to shoot out a prayer request. This week, Becky is in Catalina Island teaching an intensive Bible study on the book of Amos. There are 7 students from UNR in her group as well as 8 students from Cal Poly. It is a larger group than last year when Becky taught the same study and obviously the group from Cal Poly will all be new faces to her. The study started this afternoon and will continue until next Saturday. Please pray that the students in her group would be open to learning about injustice and what they can do about it and that they would not return unchanged. Pray that God will speak through Becky and will give these students a heart for fighting injustice.
Thanks!

Disbanding and Regrouping

Howdy, ya'll!
Yes, I said ya'll! Got a problem with it... I'm feeling a bit giddy as I prepare for day one of the weekend. This week has been a bit trying and I'm ready to move on to a new one. I'm also ready to move on to the new and hopefully improved format of my small group. For those of you who don't know, my small group basically disbanded on Wednesday night. I'll spare you the details, but for a couple of hours I felt really down about it and felt like a failure, despite the fact that I KNOW otherwise. I would only have been a failure if I had not listened to God's prompting and given this a try. At any rate, I was kind of bummed, and I moped for a bit, then went to bed.
When I woke up the next morning, I felt renewed, excited about the new direction that I think God is taking this group. I checked my e-mail and found responses to my e-mails regarding the situation and was actually joyous to think that this new thing might work out even better than the old.
So here it is: My small group, as it was previously known, no longer exists. However, my small group is now being conducted in a blog format so that anyone who wants to participate can do so on their own schedule. This means that all of you who wanted to participate, but couldn't make it to a Wednesday night meeting, you can now participate in your own time, when it's convenient for you. So, if you'd like to participate, even sporadically, send me an e-mail at spkn4_4ever@hotmail.com, and I will add you to the members' list for the Cross & Quill blog so that you can post there also. (You have to be a member to post or comment there.)
Okay, so now that I'm done shamelessly plugging the new format of my small group, I think that I'll call it a night!

The Dress of Doom

WARNING: Extremely girly post follows!!!
Today began the hunt for the elusive bridesmaids dresses. For those of you who don't know, my brother (age 23) is getting married in October to his "high school sweetheart" as the cliche goes. They've been together since November of 2000, so it's pretty much an "it's about time" sort of thing. At any rate, I am co-maid of honor for this wedding, and thus will be very busy before too terribly long. So today was the day for the dresses. This is the part that I've been dreading the most because I was afraid that I wouldn't find anything that looked good, but I'd have to pay a ton of money anyway. This is how the adventure began--me feeling queasy at the thought of having to try on dresses that probably wouldn't fit with my super-skinny co-maid of honor.
Once we started, though, it turned out not to be so bad. We tried on tea-length dresses, and long dresses. We had to make my brother, who's 6'3", carry the long dresses, because all of us women are 5'3" or less and we were pretty much tripping over them as we tried to carry them. As we were trying on dresses, I found that I was not the only one who had issues with how the dresses looked. Jenna (the co-MOH), didn't like most dresses because she felt she didn't have enough to fill them. I, on the other hand, have been abundantly blessed in that area. So the funniest part of the whole thing was realizing that I require a dress that is THREE sizes larger on the top than it is on the bottom. HA!!! So, I'll have to order the larger size and then it will have some HARD CORE alterations done... Oh yeah and because it's a long dress, they have to cut off the bottom HALF of the skirt because I'm so short. But, I really am pleased with how it looked on, so no more queasy feeling for me... Yeah! Anyway, the picture above is the dress that I'll be getting. It looks really plain from the front, but it has some beading/embroidery on the back that is fun, and what's more important is that it looks REALLY good on!!!

Freshmanitis/Poetry Lesson #2

So, it took me a while to post my Freshman-itis assignment because I wanted to make it a sestina, thereby making it poetry lesson #2. Before I post the poem, let me explain the guidelines of a sestina and perhaps you'll see what makes it so difficult. I do not claim to be posting a GOOD sestina, but more like a RAW sestina.

A sestina consists of six stanzas of six lines and concludes with a three line stanza. In the six stanzas, the end words are repeated in a pre-determined order. In the tercet (the three line stanza) all six words are used, two in each line... If the six end words were labeled ABCDEF, the six stanzas would go like this:
1. ABCDEF
2. FAEBDC
3. CFDABE
4. ECBFAD
5. DEACFB
6. BDFECA
and the tercet would go like this:
line one: BE, line two: DC, line three: FA

Born in a Petri Dish

It hasn't been the best day
but it certainly hasn't been the worst--
I have yet to find my messy blonde head
shoved into the toilet. Far better than most
days. I could have a good birthday still--
Even if Spud and Mitzi did forget.

In fact I half expected everyone to forget
that the undesirable child is fourteen today.
While I sit at lunch waiting, perfectly still,
I imagine the ways this day could be worse
and not even come close to being the most
devastating birthday. Because in my head

that honor belongs to the day my little head
pushed its way into the world, quickly forgetting
the warmth I'd known inside and finding the most
chilling cold outside. That very first day
my gray-blue eyes couldn't see the worst
name ever given formulating in my still

exhausted mother's mind. And to this day I'm still
cursed with an unfortunate name and a head
filled to the limit with only the worst
memories imaginable. I will never forget
what it felt like when I arrived on the first day
of public school when it seemed like almost

everyone was laughing and rolling eyes at the most
hideous of all imaginable names-Nebula Amoeba Kowstill.
It should be obvious by now that on the day
this world first saw my precious baby head,
my parents were scientists who refused to forget
for a single day, to leave their work at work. Even worse

the brought their work home in the worst
way, creating a daughter in a dish. Perhaps their most
controversial experiment to day. She won't ever forget
how she came into existence, but she still
has to go on living, reminded constantly in her head
that she was born as only an experiment, knowing each day

could be just a little bit worse. But she goes on because she's still
here, trying to make the most possible headway
in a life best forgotten for another day.