The End

They're saying the world is going to end this weekend. There was a time when that kind of news made me nervous, but I've lived through several of these predictions now, and have finally accepted that humans have been predicting the end of the world since before we could even call ourselves humans. There have always been and will always be people on the corner with sandwich-board signs saying "The End is Near" and late night evangelists reading from Revelations. And they have always been wrong. So I smile to myself as I drive down the deserted highway home.

It's a beautiful February day with a clear blue sky and a brisk breeze. I know that most people have rushed home to cling to their families in fear, so I'm taking my time and enjoying the complete lack of traffic. I was planning to go home this weekend anyway to visit my parents since I didn't have anything else going on, and it has been several weeks since I last saw them. It isn't a visit of desperation like so many others are currently having. It's just like any other visit, except less stressful, because all the idiots have burrowed themselves into tunnels. It's nice. I don't even listen to the radio this time because there is no need. I don't need any distractions from other drivers because there are no other cars around for miles, and I'm enjoying the wide, luxurious silence as my car glides over hills and turns.

It's dark by the time I roll into town, the sleepy little barely-a-city where I grew up. On my three hour journey I've only met one other vehicle, and what a coincidence, it was someone I knew! An old friend, who smiled and waved in recognition before continuing on her way, clearly also enjoying the rare beauty of such an empty world. As I pass through the business district, I notice that all the lights are off in every store and restaurant and every business sign is dark. I have never seen the boulevard so dark, but this, too, makes me smile. Undoubtedly, come Monday, when the world has yet again failed to end, the lights will flicker back on as everyone sheepishly returns to work and pretends that they aren't as gullible as they really are. In the meantime, I'm sure the environment appreciates at least one eco-friendly night with power switched off, fewer cars on the road, less pollution and waste, if only for a couple of hours.

Only a few lights shine out across town from homes and places of worship, where the faithful and afraid have gathered to ask for mercy. My own church is one of the handful hosting a service tonight. I decide to stop in, not to attend, but to use the restroom, which will be cleaner and more comfortable than a gas station. I hurry in and out, not wanting to be stopped and caught up in conversation, but there are only about a dozen people here, and even the handful that I recognize seem particularly short on words tonight.

By the time I get home, my parents are already in bed, so I let myself in quietly and settle in for the night in my old room; I'll greet them in the morning.

But I must have been more tired than I realize, because I sleep later than I intend to.  Although my parents are both retired, they are still early risers and I expect they have gone on about their normal daily routines. I head to the new science museum where my dad has been volunteering. It's just down the road and I haven't seen it since it opened.

Today is significantly warmer than yesterday, and far warmer than you would normally expect for February, but with global climate change, it's hardly worth remarking on anymore. The evidence of climate change is thick here though, where much of the vegetation has withered under extended drought conditions and the gravel roads have somehow turned to sand.

I arrive at the museum and can am not surprised to find absolutely zero patrons.  Even without the hype about the end of the world, I imagine that this museum doesn't see much traffic, having been unfortunately built in a part of the country that has largely abandoned science. Mom greets me in the gift shop with a tight hug and a smile that lights up her whole face. The girl working in the gift shop explains that she's radioed to Dad that I'm here and he'll be down in a minute. Normally he would need to wait until the end of a tour to leave, but there is no one here today, so it doesn't matter.

While we wait for Dad, Mom and I catch up. We laugh about how out of control the doomsday predictions have gotten, surpassing the old days when only scattered sects would hole up. We decide it probably has something to do with the so-called echo chamber that social media has become.  We laugh about the biggest doomsday failures in recent history, the Mayan Calendar in 2012 and the Y2K panic before that. But here is Dad! He envelopes me in his strong arms and kisses my cheek.  Let's all go back to the house, he suggests, there won't be any visitors to the museum today anyway. He'll give me the full tour later on.

So we wave goodbye to the girl in the gift shop and begin the walk home. It's really heating up today, and the sand has gotten rather hot on our feet. I skip ahead of my parents from shade patch to shade patch and we briefly pause while I share my water bottle with Mom. As she takes a drink, I look up at the clear blue sky. There isn't a cloud anyway, from horizon to horizon, and the sun beats down ferociously.  I feel like it looks... angry? I make an off-hand comment to this effect, and my parents glance skyward before agreeing with me, and we continue our walk home.

As we get almost to the door there is suddenly a flash, so bright that normal daylight seems dark by comparison, and we instinctively lunge through the door.  In that split second my mind leaps to the wildest places. I first wonder if we can go back and start over, before realizing that's impossible. I quickly despair that humanity never had the chance to spread beyond our planet in any real way. Everything we had ever done or made or been was about the be erased without the slightest shred of evidence as the sun exploded and incinerated our entire planet. It was not just my own future lost, it was everyone's future, and everyone's past. My parents and I held each other close, as we had a million times before, and yet like never before, and never again, and waited for the end.

The Library Tree

Beautiful warm sunlight from above, a gentle and refreshing breeze all around, and cool, damp, and fertile soil down below.  The mobile organisms scurry, slope, flit, and slither all around, providing me with delicious carbon dioxide, and sometimes I think there is no better place that I could be.  I’ve seen generations of the mobile ones come and go, changing and aging, as I’ve grown larger, taller, wiser.  Sometimes they are nice, bringing extra nutrients, or admiring my leaves as the seasons change.  It amuses me to watch the young ones try to climb, and I try then not to let them fall to their deaths. Other times they are a nuisance, trying to carve markings into my body.  But mostly they are harmless, with short lifespans and shorter attention spans, so the damage they do is usually temporary.  

Most of what the bipeds do is building things. There’s one here, near me.  They brought stones from far away and stacked them. They brought metals and minerals, melted and stretched thin, and decorated and filled the various holes between the stones.  It’s not a natural look, but so little of what the bipeds do looks natural anymore.  As far as their structures go, this seems to be one of the nicer ones.  I’ve grown accustomed to it over the past seasons, if not fully fond of it.   But don’t let the cool stone deceive you. This structure is full of unspeakable horrors.

I didn’t realize it at first. I was (relatively) young and unconcerned with the comings and goings of the bipeds within their artificial stone outcropping.  In those days I was smaller and more of the young ones would try and climb me, with their feet tickling my limbs and branches as they scurried about like squirrels. I’ve never really understood why so many of the mobile organisms move so quickly, but it does amuse me, how they bustle about in such a hurry, as though they are filled with a raging wind.   

Occasionally, one of the bipeds will stop and rest in my shade either on the way in or out of the stone building, often carrying a small object.  Normally small objects don’t concern me much one way or another.  But there was something so horrifyingly repulsive about this one.  Perhaps the revulsion was in that the item was so small and unassuming, quiet and harmless.  I didn’t notice it at first. Certainly a great many of them had escaped my notice before this one showed me the monsters all around me.

In the hands of this calm, quiet biped, carried out from the silent stone outcropping, were the scraps of my brethren, only barely recognizable after having been shredded and and mashed, mutilated and bleached, burned and bound.  I looked and saw more: nearly every biped entering and exiting that artificial cave had one of these items, often more.  A few had more than they could hold and carried them in bags.  I had not paid much mind to what went on in the artificial cave, but it was largely quiet and still, and I had not considered the carnage housed inside, the evidence of such monumental violence, obviously carried out somewhere, if not just beyond my roots’ reach!  Suddenly it seemed an abandoned abbatoire, a gruesome mausoleum full of haunts.

I cannot view the tomb the same way again, nor the bipeds coming and going from it.  I have become suspicious of them and all their doings. They have gone from harmless follies to unpredictable monsters.  

I saw one last spring digging holes in the open land near the monstrous cavern, and placing saplings of my own kind into the holes. At the time it seemed beautiful, a nurturing act that seems to have become relatively rare on the part of the bipeds toward us stationary organisms.  Now I find myself wondering if the young are being placed there for convenience, to be grown nearby and slaughtered when they are needed.  I wonder if I am in danger, and my brothers nearby.  At times I grow angry thinking about it, and when the wind is in my favor, I break off pieces of my limbs and throw them in rage at the bipeds, their motorized machines, at the unspeakable building itself.

The bipeds would have to pay for such treachery.  I reached out to my brethren through the root network and asked if they knew of this.  Some admitted they did.  Some had heard from farther away about whole forests being cleared, but none of us knew exactly the middle steps between our kind being slaughtered and being carried around in pieces by the monsters around us.  We decided to fight back.  We had been on this planet longer than the bipeds, and we would remain when they were gone.  We slowed down our oxygen production, just slightly enough to cause panic, even though carbon dioxide was more than abundant.  Those of us with hard fruit and nuts instructed the squirrels and chipmunks how to throw it at the bipeds when they least suspected it.  We warned the birds of the treachery and encouraged them to drop their waste on the bipeds when possible, and on their motorized machines when the bipeds themselves were unavailable.  We used the wind to throw whatever of ourselves we could manage. Our efforts had little effect, it seemed, but it felt good to direct our rage back at the bipeds. For a while.  

One calm spring day, when the wind wasn’t strong enough to do much and we had nothing yet for the squirrels to throw, I watched some of the young bipeds running through my domain.  I noticed a small biped clutching a particularly large specimen of my mutilated kin.  Several other bipeds, also small, but larger than the first, were chasing her.  At first I thought they must be practicing their violent ways, growing their anger and honing their rage.  But then I noticed that the smallest one, with her horrible souvenir, was not in a frenzy, but was actually fleeing, afraid of the demons chasing her.  I watched, studying the situation as the others caught the small one and took the prize from her arms. She shrieked in defiance, and I inwardly cheered, siding with the beasts that were apparently also enraged by the sacrilege it represented. The small one continued crying out, pleading with the others, who then encircled her, taunting her with what they had taken. But then I changed sides, for as I looked on, the others took the artifact and waved it, open with the thin shreds of my kind flapping perversely.  The small one made a lunge and fell, and I noticed her face was wet. The others cheered and laughed at her humiliation and, to my horror, began destroying the item they had wrenched from her hands.

The sheets fluttered about like autumn leaves as the small one scrabbled for them and begged the others to return the carcass.  They laughed maliciously, and with a final rip, tossed the now empty shell back at the small one and scattered.  

I was dumbfounded. The small one caught each stray piece of the mangled tome and, still sobbing, sat beneath my boughs and put each one back in its place with a gentle caress.  She seemed to apologize to each scrap as she lovingly smoothed, tucked, and straightened each one back within the covering.  I could no longer be angry with this small biped holding tattered remains of my family. It was painfully clear that this was no monster cherishing a head on a spike.  Whatever had been done to transform mighty trees into this small brick had carried great meaning with it.  My fallen comrades had become the medium that bore greater meaning than we could have imagined.  No biped had ever cried out over a branch we had lost or even one of our great number completely letting go of the earth and falling.  We became so much more important to the souls of these creatures when we carried the markings they burned upon our processed flesh. And while I still wished that we were valued more as living things, my anger subsided to see how dearly the bipeds loved what we became.

I still shudder inwardly, from time to time, at all of the carcasses entombed so nearby, but it’s almost worth it when I see how much meaning the bipeds get from the messages we carry.  And maybe someday we can find a compromise.  

Unfortunately, Not Everyone Likes Sour Gummy Worms

I’ve been swimming in this sea of sour gummy worms for ages now.  Seriously, like three weeks maybe? I’ve nearly lost sight of the shore.  It’s just bright orange, lime green, electric blue, and hot pink, sunshine yellow and neon red all about.  Gorgeous really.  

I asked my friends to come along. It looked like a lot of fun, something I hadn’t done before, maybe a fun adventure.  It was something that I would definitely have jumped right into in my younger days, and I thought they would appreciate that, always reminiscing like they are.

I said to a couple of them, “Look! It’s a sea of sour gummy worms! Doesn’t that look great! Let’s just go for a little swim! Might be fun!”

They looked at me blankly.  I tried to keep a fun, encouraging face, and said, expectantly, “Well?!”

Monica smiled and then said “Hey, remember that time we walked through the chocolate forest? That was funny right? I don’t know about swimming in gummy worms, but the chocolate forest was ah-mazing! All the chocolate right?! Yeah, that was great!”

I smiled and nodded, still wading in the gummy worms, in up to about my ankles. “Yeah, that was fun, this could be fun too. Let’s give it a go!”

Whitney said, in her hip German accent, “You know I don’t really eat sugar anymore. It’s not very gut for you, you know.” Whitney, who used to drag us to the candy shop every weekend.  We bought a whole grocery bag full of candy once, just for the hell of it. But now it’s not good enough for her.  So much for old times’ sake.  All I could do was blink. I turned to Carla.

“For real, though! Look, taste this one, Carla! Feel how squishy it is! Wouldn’t it be a hoot to swim in!”

Carla tasted the the gummy worm I tossed to her.  She nibbled the end thoughtfully.  She smiled, “Yeah that’s not bad,” my eyebrows went up with my hopes. “That’s something I might consider doing in the future.” Eyebrows and hopes crashed back down.

“I’m already in, though! I didn’t mean three weeks from now, I’ve started now! This could be a fun thing for us all to do!” I cried. But I had already lost their attention. They were talking about something else that I couldn’t quite hear and they had started walking down the shore.  With spiteful determination, I turned and faced the sour gummy sea. I stomped out until the gummies reached my knees and then I leapt out, arms outstretched into the rainbow of gelatinous worms.

The beach where I had started was sort of in a cove, and as I paddled and frolicked (swimming in gummy worms is not quite like normal swimming. You do float, but not quite as well as in water.  It’s sort of between swimming and going through a ball pit, so frolicking is still definitely possible, even when you can’t reach the bottom), I noticed one of my other friends out on the shore to my right.  She had always more tolerance for my strange notions, and had had some of her own.  When others failed to appreciate me, she usually did. I waved and called out to her.

“Vanessa!  Look! I’m swimming in a sea of sour gummy worms! Come join me!”  She waved back and smiled. I knew she liked sour gummy worms, so I was hopeful I would finally have some company.  But with a wave of nausea, I remembered that the last several things I had suggested to her had not gone over well.  She hadn’t been thrilled with the sugar glass spectacles I recommended, and thought that the cotton candy wig I told her about had been cute, but not practical enough to really say she “liked” it.  But still! We had both previously enjoyed sour gummy worms, and on a separate occasion, wading through a maple syrup swamp.

“Oh, that looks like fun! Let me go get my goggles!” She shouted back.  

“That’s a good idea! Sometimes the sour sugar gets in and burns a little, but it’s still worth it! I am just having fun, so I won’t be far gone when you return!”

That was two weeks ago, and I haven’t heard back. I thought I saw her coming back over a dune and I jumped and waved, asking if she was coming along, that I was getting lonely, but she either must not have heard me or she decided a sea of sour gummy worms was just too much.  So I bounce along alone.

Sometimes I think the gummy worms are coming alive and keeping me company. They’re always a lot of fun.  Very sarcastic, sour gummy worms are.  Just like you’d expect from a candy that makes you pucker.  Other times, I start to think that maybe I’m becoming a sour gummy worm too.  Part of me knows this isn’t really rational, but there are nights when the full moon shines down and my arms and legs wiggle about a lot like gummy worms, my knees and elbows the middle where the flavor and color changes. Sometimes each of my fingers are gummy worms too!  But when I bite them, it hurts, so I don’t do that so much anymore.

I don’t regret coming out here, even though sometimes the sour sugar gets in my eye, and I’ve got a canker sore on my tongue. I just wish my friends had come along. Who would have known that candy could be so divisive?  The gummy worms are my friends now.  It’ll be alright.

Cat

People think cats are assholes, but I don’t think they ever stopped to consider that maybe we’re just reacting to the way we get treated in the first place.  Nobody goes bad without a reason.

Take me for example, when I was a young mangy stray, I got taken in by a family of people.  See what I did there: taken in.  Double meaning, that! They really liked me at first. They saw me in an alley, playing with the small one’s bike handle tassels.  Thought I was so cute, they did. “Oh, look at her play with the tassels!” they said. “She’s such a cute playful thing, swatting the tassels like they’re alive!”  They went and got some tinned tuna out of the pantry and put it on a dish for me.  I thought to myself, this is a sweet gig! I find fun things to play with, bring it to these big, weird primates, demonstrate how it’s fun, and they reward me with food and attention!

And it was a sweet gig.  The people let me keep my freedom to roam the neighborhood, and they fed me and played with me on a regular basis.  And in return, I’d bring them presents, souvenirs from my adventures.  The small one, especially, seemed to like these gifts. I’d disappear for a couple of days and come back with butterfly in my mouth, or colorful piece of cloth that I’d found.  The small one would pick up the presents I’d leave by the back door and tell me how much she liked them.  One time when it was raining, I darted inside to warm up and dry off and before the people caught me, I found a box of my presents under the small one’s bed.  The medium one grabbed me with a towel and put me in the garage before I could look too closely, but it was enough: I knew this thing was working out. It was a mutually beneficial relationship.  I bring presents and joy, they give food, shelter and attention. What more could I ask?  Oh, how about not to have the rug pulled out from under me!

Time passed and the seasons did their thing.  The big one and the medium one continued to feed me and play with me, and they seemed to find some enjoyment from the little gifts I brought back from my adventures. The small one was getting bigger, but she still played with me too, though she wasn’t around as much.  One afternoon, when I was napping in a patch of sunshine, she told me she had shown some of my presents to a friend who was impressed with the uniqueness of the items, the buttons and stones and ribbons. She confided that there were a few presents I had brought that she hadn’t kept, but she had appreciated them all the same.  That frog I had caught? What a shock! She’d had quite a laugh from that one, she had!

She also talked about other presents that the other people had shared with her. I don’t know where they came from, but she said they had a lizard inside. She called it Brennan. She and the big one liked the lizard. It ate crickets and made them chuckle with its antics. I wished I could share their laughter over the lizard, but I think it eventually died and I never got to see what was so funny.  They didn’t seem to care that I might like to play with the lizard.  I began to wonder if my presents weren’t good enough to earn time to play with the lizard. They weren’t playing with me so much anymore. I would have to step up my game.

On my next adventure I brought back a mouse.  I had heard them wondering that I had kept mice away from the house and thought maybe it was a hint. I presented my prize at the door and sat proudly above it until the people came and saw. They laughed kindly and said they liked it, I was a good cat for catching the mouse. They weren’t going to keep it, but they were glad I caught it and could tell why I liked catching mice. Mice must be just the perfect thing for me, a cat, to catch. I must have had such a good time catching it and playing with it! And you know what? I had had a great time catching and playing with that mouse before I brought it to them.  It didn’t matter that they weren’t going to keep it, they liked that I had caught it and shown them.  Maybe this would get them to play with me again.

But it didn’t, really.  I would have to do better. Maybe, since they now preferred lizards, I should bring them one of those! Yes, that would do it! They missed Brennan, so I’d bring them a new lizard, and since I brought it, maybe they’d let me play with it, too! We could all play with the lizard together, and things would go back to the way they were!  I set off to find a lizard.

Now, I was smart enough to know that they wouldn’t want a dead lizard. No, I didn’t think they liked dead things too much, and surely Brennan was not dead when they talked and laughed about him.  The people liked different things from what I liked, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t want to play with a dead lizard.  I’d bring them a live one.

I spent the next couple days stalking through the neighbors’ gardens, chasing the scurrying little dinosaurs through the dying plants, getting themselves ready for winter’s hibernation. After a few attempts, I caught one. (I had had several close calls, but the damn things kept letting their tails fall off, and what was the fun in that?! But I finally got one around the front and middle, so it was still burdened with its glorious tail when I brought it back to the people.  As before, I waited by the back door, proud and triumphant, with my souvenir.  This lizard was fantastic. I loved it, and I knew they would love it. As I waited by the door, I heard the people coming. They had all been on a walk looking at the trees and talking about how excited they were that soon the leaves would change color. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but they were excited.  I was excited too. I ran to meet them, the wriggling lizard gently but firmly held between my teeth.

At first, before I got to them, they smiled, pleased that I was running to meet them; what a happy reunion after their walk and my hunt!  They turned and waited for me, watching me prance up like a proud, stupid labrador.  They smiled. I smiled. I parked myself in front of the people as they said “What have you found, kitty? What did you bring us?”  I triumphantly dropped the lizard (who was terrified, by the way, I guess he didn’t understand that we weren’t planning on killing him. At least, I wasn’t. But I had never figured out what had happened to Brennan, I suppose…) at their feet.  The people gaped at me. They looked at me. They looked at the lizard. They blinked. They shrugged. And they walked on into the house.

Unbelievable! What happened? They used to love when I brought them things! And I knew they liked lizards! This one wasn’t even dead!  Not even a “good kitty!” The bastards!  I’ll admit, I was a little upset over this for a little while. Personally offended. I had put serious thought into this one, and I was sure it would be a great new thing for us to bond over, like the bicycle streamers of old. But nooooo, just a blank expression, a shrug, and nothing! Like they didn’t even know me! The loveable alley cat they had fed and played with for years!  I vowed to myself I wouldn’t bring them any more presents.

But I really am a softie. And even with the embers of anger smoldering inside me, I eased my rage a little when I thought I saw the problem. Over the next couple days, I overheard the people talking about the leaves changing color again, and I guess if I looked closely enough, I could tell that they maybe were a slightly different shade of gray, but mostly they smelled different and I could tell that they’d be loosening from the trees and covering the ground soon. Crunchy leaves were good for playing in but bad for stalking. Too noisy.  I frowned inwardly for a moment, but was drawn from my reverie as the people started bringing things from inside the house to outside the house. They put some gourds outside and little signs in the yard.  And then, lo and behold, skeletons!  Maybe that was the problem! They had wanted a dead lizard after all!

I contemplated my next move, my previous vow to neglect the people out of spite forgotten.  I should bring them something dead. I had underestimated these people! I didn’t think they liked dead things, since they had thrown out my dead mouse, but they were more ferocious than I thought, marking their territory with the carcasses of what I can only presume were their own kills. I didn’t think I could bring down anything as large as the people themselves, but I could find something nearer my own size.  That should impress them.  But what specifically? I surveyed the items they were arranging around their territory.  People shaped skeletons (too big)... Pumpkins (too heavy)... Oh a picture of me! (obviously I’m not going to sacrifice my own kind for these jerks, though)...  A people with a funny pointy head (no, those carry those bristly sticks they swat cats away with)... And then I saw it:  a raven!  Genius! I’d catch one of those big sinister birds and they could decorate with it! We’d be thick as thieves again!

I staked out the neighborhood and found a flock of ravens to stalk. There were a couple that were on the old side but should do just fine. And, like the lizard before, it took me a couple tries, but, damnit, I caught the one of the bigger ravens. When I was sure it was dead and would present nicely to the people, I dragged it back. It was almost as big as I was! But they would have to love it.  They used to always give the best reactions to my surprise presents.  (Except for the lizard. I had to forget about that. Just a fluke, it was. Had to be!) And it had been a while since I had brought the lizard, so this present would sure be a surprise. They had always seemed to like the unpredictability best. When would I be back, what would I bring? They never could tell, and the shock would make them laugh. They would love this raven.

And to add to the surprise, I would take it to the front door this time! Usually I brought presents to the back door, but that was too predictable, and this was a surprise!  A grand surprise!  I sat with my raven on the mat by the door. I could hear the people inside talking about the decorations, about pumpkins and sweaters and leaves.  I thought to myself, I’ve done it this time!  I’d be proud of this present any time of year, but they’ll particularly like it right now!  I grew impatient. I mewed to get their attention.  But still they stayed inside. I had suspected that maybe they couldn’t hear as well as I could, so I mewed louder.  By the time I was almost hoarse, they opened the door, all bundled up in extra clothes to go somewhere. I realized they hadn’t heard me, but I waved that thought aside.  They would still like it.

They didn’t.  They wrinkled up their noses.  They took a step back.  They looked back and forth between me and my raven.  

“Oh, kitty! Why’d you do that?” the big one sneered.

“Eurgh! I just don’t get it!” the small one said, recoiling.

“I’m not even going to touch it.” said the middle one, slightly exasperated.

I tried to explain, “I got this for you! I thought you’d like it! You used to always love the things I showed you! This is exactly the kind of thing I’m supposed to do!  It even goes with the decorations!  You’ve got a fake one over there!”  But I guess they never learned to speak cat because they grabbed a bristly stick that people use to shoo away cats and used it to throw my raven in the trash. Then they stepped around me and went on their way.

At first I was heartbroken.  I thought they loved me, but they rejected me and my contributions.  I couldn’t understand it. What had I done wrong? But that sadness melted away into anger.  I had done my best! And I hadn’t done anything wrong! I had continued to uphold my end of the unspoken contract.  They’re the ones who changed the deal! It wasn’t my fault! It was theirs! How could they do this to me?!

It all became clear to me: cats aren’t born assholes, we’re made into assholes.   My destiny was clear.  My future opened wide with the possibilities of malevolence.  In the spring I would shred their new plants. In the summer I would knock their fruity beverages off the patio table. In the winter I would wait for an approaching snowstorm and poop on top of their cars and let the snow hide the dirty surprise.  In the fall I would hide in the leaves and attack their furry boots as they walked by.  I could roll over as if to ask for tummy scratches and then bite their fingers to bits. If I could sneak my way inside on a regular basis, I could do so much more… so much more…

And that’s why this house is covered in a mountain of spiders. It was a big job, but some asshole had to do it.

Hazard Lights

We sat in the ice cream shop driveway waiting for a break in the traffic to make our way home. It was evening, not quite dark, so it wasn’t like rush hour traffic or anything, but there were plenty of other cars about.

A line of cars approached with a new Mercedes-Benz at the head of the line. It was sleek, glossy black with tinted windows. Its obsidian tires rolled almost silently down the asphalt toward us. Since daylight was dwindling, but was not yet gone, the sedan’s running lights were on, but not the full headlights. It led the other cars like the badass leader of gang of normals made cooler just by their boss’s presence. The Benz seemed to say, “You know your place. Stay behind me while I show you how this intersection is done.”

The Benz’s hazard lights were on.

“Why are his hazard lights on?” William asked beside me.

“Maybe his girlfriend turned them on and is seeing how long it takes him to notice,” I suggested.

“Maybe he’s stolen the car and it’s a silent alarm” William offered.

The Benz moved closer to us and to the intersection.

“Maybe it’s a very short, very fast funeral procession,” I proposed.

“Maybe the breaks are out and he isn’t going to be able to stop if the light turns red,” William theorized.

“Maybe the car is making a weird noise inside that we can’t hear and he’s afraid it’s going to blow up,” I put forward.

“Maybe he is hosting a slow rave on the front bumper of his car for squashed insects,” William hypothesized.

The car passed the driveway where we sat and drew closer to the intersection.

“Maybe he likes to listen to the ‘ding, ding’ of the turn signals but doesn’t want it to stop when he turns the wheel so far,” I guessed.

The light remained green as the Benz advanced on the intersection. We watched from behind as the three rear brake lights briefly illuminated.

The Benz split neatly down the middle lengthwise as the driver’s side turned left and the passenger side turned right, each half going its own separate way on two in-line tires, and the indictor lights shut off.

“Well, I guess that answers that!” I said to William, as we pulled out of the ice cream shop driveway and headed home.

Crickets

This is a test.  Does anyone still read this? I'm hoping in the last seven years you've all forgotten about this.  Don't go backhand read the old stuff. I might delete it. But my imagination has been sort of freeze-dried for several years, but I feel it coming back to life, and I want a place to practice writing again.  So I'm changing the name of this blog, and I'm going to try and write some stupid little stories. I have a couple ideas so far.  Hazard lights and Cat. That's two things. For now.

How do you do?

A couple of things happened today while I was at work. The first was that a friend of mine told me that I should blog because I’m funny and he likes to read funny blogs. I figured I would give it a try (again). As for the funny part, I can’t make any promises. The other thing was that while sitting at work today, I was waiting for my boss to get off the phone, and I began messing with my stapler. I noticed that on the bottom, where the staples are loaded, was a message engraved from the manufacturer: “Read user manual before stapling.”

How stupid do they think we are? It is a stapler. Sure, this particular stapler is a little bit difficult to load (the instructions are given in the form of a picture of how to load the staples into the empty apparatus). And sure, there is some risk involved with using a stapler, if you’re clumsy/stupid/numb enough leave part of your body underneath the part where the staples come out. And, working in a law office, I know that anyone will try to sue anyone else over anything. (A large percentage of my work day consists of me telling local crazies ‘No, you don’t really have a case. You can’t sue someone because they don’t like you. Discrimination is based on a specific factor, not just attitude.) So, in a time when we have to put “Caution! Hot!” labels on coffee cups, I could even rationalize a warning label on a stapler.

But a user manual? All of my life I’ve only seen two real styles of stapler: Automatic, and Manual. Furthermore, both of these are simple enough that even toddlers use them with ease (although they must of course be supervised. Toddlers like to put things in their mouths, and as far as I know, tongue piercings on infants are not as popular as ear piercings on infants).

For manual staplers, the only basic process I’ve seen is two steps:
1. Put your papers into the opening on the stapler.
2. Press down.

And automatic staplers are even simpler, with just the first step required and the magical stapling forces taking care of the rest. Either the stapling companies think that everyone in modern civilization is hopelessly idiotic, or these alleged user manuals are the biggest waste of paper ever.

Let’s list other things that don’t really need but could conceivably have a user manual!

Drinking glasses
(1. Keeping open end up, pour your desired beverage into the glass. 2. Bring the glass to your mouth, resting your bottom lip on the closest side of the glass. 3. Tilt the glass up so that the beverage flows into your mouth. Caution: Do not attempt to drink with your mouth on the far side of the glass. Doing so could result in wetness, stickiness, or injury.)

Facial tissues
(1. Pull a tissue from the box 2. Hold the tissue to your nose. 3. Exhale strongly. Note: For better results, try pinching one nostril shut and blowing out of the other. Then repeat, holding the alternate nostril closed.)

Shoes
(1. Slide your foot into the cavity of the shoe. If necessary, loosen any laces. 2. Stand, walk, or run on shoe. If shoe has laces, pull them to a comfortable tightness and tie the laces in a bow.

Feel free to leave more suggestions!

Let a Brand New Day Wash Over You

Happy Easter! (I was going to say "Happy Easter, Everyone!" but figured no one would actually read this, and if anyone did read it, it was not likely to be enough to warrant an 'everyone.' If you are reading, however, welcome! Glad you could join me!)

It's been almost a year since I last updated. I was going to try and keep this blog going, but summer happened, 40-hour/week summer job happened, relationship drama happened, good things happened, school happened, graduation requirement drama happened, school kept happening, a puppy happened, and school continues to be happening, and I finally feel like saying something.

So, yes, I don't have much to blog about on a regular basis, as my life has mostly consisted of homework, class, and interning these last few months. I graduate in about a month and a half, and I'm looking forward to that. I'm going back to work at the law office, and I'm really thankful that they're giving me this job. It's not in my field, but it's a regular, steady, paying job that doesn't make me want to blow my brains out. My boyfriend also lives next door to the office. I think this is a much more fortunate set up than most of my fellow graduates will likely happen upon, so I'm definitely not complaining.

I also got a puppy. She's a blue heeler that my friends Danny and Katie found lost on campus one cold December day. I fell in love with her and brought her home to my parents.



After discovering her affinity for biting fingers, we lovingly named her Charlie and as I type this, she's lying on the floor looking at me with big brown eyes that clearly say, "I'm bored. You should put that stupid computer down and come pet me."

She also recently had a run-in with a skunk, though, and until the smell wears off a bit more, I'm going to keep most of the playing in the category of "fetch."

She's a good dog though, and aside from her roaming a bit too far from home, we haven't had any real problems with her. She's smarter, better behaved, and has more personality than quite a few humans that I've met, and I'm glad I could bring her to a good home.

So life is going on. I'm getting through my final semester of college, working on making the transition to "the real world," and enjoying what I can while trying not to stress about what I can't.

Hopefully I'll update this more soon, but I won't make promises.

I'm a Little More Than Useless

Well, I've decided I'm going to keep blogging, even though I'm no longer on adventures abroad. Feel free to continue reading or stop reading as you desire. Most of what I say here will just be random things that pop into my head with whatever commentary i come up with.

With that said...

I'm adjusting to being home rather nicely. Sometimes it feels as though the whole semester was just a dream, but I have things that remind me it was real, like pictures, friends I wouldn't otherwise have met, and souvenirs. WIthout a doubt, the souvenir I use the most is the purse I got in Greece (Ha, I bet some of you thought it would be a shot glass. Got you!). It's adorable, but it's pretty difficult to organize. It only has one small pocket on the inside that's about big enough for my sunglasses and my cell phone, or my cell phone and my ipod, or my keys. When I set my purse down, sometimes the things spill out of the pocket into the purse anyway.

As a result, my old sunglasses got pretty badly scratched up by my keys. So I went to Target and got some new sunglasses, and I thought to myself, "Let's not do that same thing again! I'll get a case for my sunglasses, like any sensible person would do!"

I couldn't find a single glasses case in the store. I thought, "No matter, I've got some spares at home, maybe my sunglasses will fit into one of those." They didn't fit.

When I went to visit my best friend a little over a week ago, we thought we'd do some shopping, and I told her that I wanted to try and find a glasses case. We're pretty good at finding random things, I figured we be victorious rather easily. Nope.

I know glasses cases haven't gone extinct, I've seen a few people with them here and there. They must definitely be highly endangered though, because In the entire Columbia mall, the only place we found hard cases were Claire's. They were even the right size, but they were pretty ugly. The only soft ones we found were pretty plain, nothing decorative. And it left me wondering:

Why does no one make sunglasses cases anymore? I know people still wear sunglasses. And sunglasses aren't getting any more indestructable. Generally I'm pretty against the whole "more material things" notion. There are countless "inventions" out there that we don't need, mountains of junk that beg to clutter our lives. But sunglasses cases are not in these categories. They are simple and useful, and I just can't understand why I'm having such a difficult time finding any.

Maybe it would be easier to find a case to keep my keys in.

We're Gonna Make Our Way to America

I’m on my flight back to the States (but by the time I post this, I’ll probably be be sitting comfortably in my own room. It’s a long flight (about 7 hours remaining, and then a layover, and then the 2 connecting flight), and I’m ready to be home. I miss my parents and my friends, and being in a reasonable time zone to the majority of them. I miss food with flavor and being able to eat when I want. I miss my double bed in my own room with my own bathroom and a real-sized shower that provides water at a variety of temperatures (as opposed to only ‘uncomfortably warm’ and ‘scaldingly hot’-- except for that week that the hot water went out and the only temperature was ‘colder than ice’). I miss my car and being able to sing along with my music at the top of my lungs.

But I’m going to miss London, too. I’ll miss the big, beautiful, royal parks. I’ll miss being able to hop on the Tube and get just about anywhere pretty quickly. I’ll miss being around so many people who are so different from me. I’ll miss the beautiful architecture all over the place and the buildings that are older than our country. I have had the most extraordinary semester, and I can hardly believe how blessed I am to have gotten such an experience. I’ve seen things that I didn’t think I would ever get to see in person, like Stonehenge, the Rosetta Stone, and Big Ben.

It will feel strange being back home. It took me about three months to get used to Sterling not feeling like play money, and I kind of feel like Dollars are going to feel like play money now. It will also be difficult for me to remember that display prices don’t include tax at home. I really got used to not having to add that on when I bought things. I think I’ll also have to adjust to hearing American accents all over the place. It was getting to the point where I was so used to hearing English accents that sometimes after talking to someone, I would walk away and wonder, “Wait, did he have an accent?”

Here’s my obvious statement of the day: The ocean is really big. Even from way up here, it just goes on as far as you can see. When I look at a map or a globe or something, it doesn’t seem like it should take almost 9 hours to fly from London to Charlotte (and to be fair, it was less than that on the way to London. I have no idea why this flight is almost two hours longer). I wish the ocean weren’t so big. It makes traveling more difficult.

Thank you all for reading my blog this semester. Your comments have been very encouraging, and I look forward to seeing you all again soon.

Much Love,

Holly

It's a Beautiful Sky on a Beautiful Day

I don't have much to report today. I had some friends visit last weekend, which was a lot of fun. Greta brought a couple of her friends from Poitiers, and it was great to meet them, and to get the chance to show them around. I really feel like I'm getting the hang of this city when I can show people around.

And Chris successfully graduated from Basic Combat Training on Friday. We got to talk on the phone for about 20 minutes yesterday, which was really nice. I've gotten to talk to a couple of other people from home as well, which has also been nice. I'm really enjoying it here, but I do miss everyone, and I'm looking forward to seeing them all in around a month or so.

And today is Palm Sunday. I didn't make it to a church service or anything, but after I woke up and showered and dressed and all that, I noticed that it was an absolutely beautiful day outside, with a wide blue sky and a few puffy white clouds, and it was already 50ºF, so I had a nice little meditation by myself out on the balcony. As I read in Luke about Jesus's journey to Jerusalem, and how the crowd was shouting about all the wonderful things they'd seen, I thought about the wonderful things God's done for me.

There are miracles I've seen long ago, like strangers stopping to pray with each other, and out-of-control vehicles somehow landing in the only safe place on the entire hill. There are small things like songs coming up out of nowhere saying exactly what I need to hear, and friends calling at just the right moment.

I thought about how so many little things happen and disappear, but leave an impact and bring us to where we are, and end up being really important for reasons we could never forsee, like all of the reasons that got so many of us here at Regent's at the point in particular. If a few small things had worked out differently, I wouldn't have met the people I have met, and would not be having the same experience at all.

"If these were quiet, the stones would cry out!" It's a wonder the stones don't cry out more often. I don't think we acknowledge daily miracles enough. Maybe that's why birds sing so much. They sing because we don't, and singing stones would draw a lot more attention (and probably make people uncomfortable with the strangeness).

I wish I could enjoy the sunshine longer, but I have to write a paper now, and the books I need have to stay in the library. Hopefully the sun will still be out when I finish...

We've Learned to Change, but Did We Change to Learn?

I got a letter from Chris last week, and he asked what I've been learning over here in London. I didn't really know how to answer that at first, because my classes are all rather easy.

And yet I'm here for a semester of my college education. I ought to be learning something, oughtn't I? In Adolescent Psychology, most of what we've talked about was mentioned in my AP Psychology class in high school (I knew Gillam was a good teacher). My Media class mostly watches movies about non-Western culture and briefly discusses them (actual movies, not documentaries; the kind that play in theaters). All I've learned in English Palaces and Country Houses is not to eat in the class room because the professor is a real stick in the mud who would rather us fall asleep during his lecture than silently enjoy a bit of chocolate. I'm always a little paranoid that he'll try to teach us something important and I'll miss it because I have so much trouble staying focused in there, but the most substantial thing he's tried to teach us were the orders of classical architecture, and I learned that from Mr. Vellios back in high school. And I've learned that my theatre class has no tests, just a couple of essays about shows, and the professor really enjoys my writing.

It's not all that bad. I do enjoy my classes mostly. I enjoy the free field trips to the theatre and to old palaces. And the movies and discussion in my media class really aren't bad. ... Psychology is pretty unforgiveably dull, but what's a semester without one of those classes? (erm, exciting??)

So the classes are all easy. But that doesn't mean that I'm going the whole semester without learning. I'm just not learning traditional 'class-room' things. For example, I've learned how to use the London Underground system (The maps make it look intimidating. It's delightfully easy, in fact).

And I've learned a few random Greek words over spring break (but I can't spell them, so it's no use on the blog. You'll just have to take my word for it).

I've learned that the foggy, rainy London stereotype exists for a very legitimate reason. I've learned that just because the English drive on the left side of the road doesn't mean that they walk on the left side of the sidewalk (any side of the sidewalk is fine, just don't run into anyone else. This does not apply to escalators, however, where the rule is strictly 'stand on the right, walk on the left').

I'm also learning things about myself. I'm learning just how much I really appreciate home and the relative quiet friendliness of the Midwest. While I've found Londoners to generally be friendly, most of the American College is from the North East, and while I've made some very good friends from them, there's a definite difference in background and culture. And London is never, ever entirely quiet.

I always knew I liked driving in my car with the windows down and the music up, singing at the top of my lungs, but being without that makes me realize how much I miss it.

Similarly, I always knew I like my privacy, but I'm learning that I can, in fact, adapt to sharing a room for more than a week.

I'm also learning that I can never figure out how to end blog entries. I just run out of things to say and click "publish post."

The Air Gets Clean and the Seas Get Wide

So, I haven't updated in a while, and for that, I apologize. I didn't do much traveling for the rest of February or the beginning of March, since I was saving up for spring break, which was absolutely and unbelieveably amazing.

I packed up and went with a couple of friends to Greece, where I had the best spring break I could imagine. We spent most of our week in Volos, staying with our friend Mark who is studying there for the semester, and was kind enough to let us stay at his apartment for free and show us around town when he was out of class.

Greece is, in many ways, entirely opposite of what I've experienced in London and in the United States. In Volos, things don't happen so much on a schedule, and everyone seems to actually enjoy what's going on around them rather than trying to rush past to where ever they're going. When people go for a walk in the evening, it's not a walk to burn off calories at the fastest pace you can go. It's a gentle stroll to take in the cool air and enjoy the waterfront by night.



Going out for coffee with friends is a four-hour event with long conversation, rather than 30-40 minutes with a bunch of watch-checking.

On our first full day in Greece, a Sunday, Mark took us up Mt. Pelion to see Makrinitsa, which was absolutely gorgeous.



Up on the mountain, there were a bunch of little fountains that spouted cool, clean water constantly, and the runoff just went on down the mountain. I tried some, it was delicious. We had lunch in a little restaurant, where I had some of the best spaghetti I've ever tasted, and I'm certain it was greatly influenced by the freshness of the ingredients.

We also walked up to an abandoned monastery, and just as we got there it began to sprinkle. It was a perfect sort of rain though, and as I looked around, it was no surprise to me that Greece is such a religious country. With so much peace and beauty around, how can you not feel like there's someone bigger out there?

We spent the rest of our time in Volos exploring the coffee shops, local food, and the old part of town. My favorite part of being in Volos, I think, was breakfast. We would all buy whatever we wanted, and on Monday morning, we took it out onto the jetty and ate breakfast from there, looking at the Aegean in one direction, and Volos in the other on a perfect spring morning.

At the end of the week, we went into Athens for a few days, which was also a lot of fun. We did the typical sight-seeing, such as the Acropolis. I didn't realize how really enormous the Parthenon is until I was standing at the foot of it. To think that people could build something like that without cranes and such is amazing.



We also saw the new and old Olympic stadiums. Next to the Acropolis (well, kind of on? but not quite...) is where Paul preached to the Athenians, which was really exciting to see.



Not too far from that was the cave where legend holds that Socrates drank the hemlock.




I could go on and on about how beautiful and relaxing and fun Greece was, but I need go get some lunch and do some laundry (I still haven't washed my clothes since I got back, and I'm nearly out of things to wear...), but hopefully I'll update again before long!

We'll Carve Our Names in The Unknown

Well, it's been a while, and I've been on more adventures. On the 14th, I went to Salisbury and Stonehenge. It seems kind of silly to me that so many people can be so fascinated by a bunch of big rocks, but honestly, I thought Stonehenge was amazing. The whole thing was roped off, so you couldn't get close, which was a little disappointing, but I enjoyed it anyway. I also had Eddie Izzard jokes going through my head the whole time.



I also found out sometime around then, that the school has gotten all of the official signs for our back gate to be useable now, so we can walk through the school grounds directly into the park (down the little path that you can see in the pictures from my balcony). I took this path and was delighted to discover that flowers and trees are beginning to blossom, even though it's only February.



Tuesday was my 21st birthday. I'm sure all of you know that in the US, 21 is the legal drinking age. In the UK it's 18, so it didn't matter over here, but my friends and I went out to celebrate anyway. We went to a fun little pub called The Rocket, and had a great time. I found this sign a few days later and thought it was hilarious. I hope you're all pleased to know that this fate did not befall me or any of my friends after celebrating.



On Friday, Becky and I went to Windsor Castle. Windsor Castle is, I've been told, the oldest castle in the world that is still inhabited. The queen and the princes live there sometime, though none of them were in when we went to visit, as was made apparent by the Union flag flying, rather than the royal flag.



It was really neat to see though. The inside part of the castle that we got to see made me realize how incredibly ridiculous it would be to actually be royalty, and to own that much stuff that you'll never possibly have need for. The enormity of it doesn't really hit you until you see it... I couldn't get pictures of all those things though, because there was no photography allowed inside. Boo.

Becky and I also went exploring yesterday because the weather was uncommonly beautiful for London. It was sunny and about 50 degrees Fahrenheit. We were going to tour Westminster Abbey, but it was closed on Saturdays, so we walked about 2 and a half miles to Hyde Park, and then another mile or so through Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens.



Things were blooming here as well, and a lot of people were out enjoying the lovely weather. We found the cool Peter Pan statue in Kensington gardens as well. I tried to get a good picture of it, but it was difficult because there were a lot of people hanging around near it, and as soon as one group would move on, another group of people would rush up to it, making good photography difficult. That's okay, though, because I'm out of pictures for this blog anyway.

The weather is still fairly nice, close to 50 all week long, though the clouds have moved back in for a while. I'm going to enjoy the rest of my Sunday. Take care, all!

Edit: I can't believe I forgot to post a title on this! Fix'd!

I Think We're Going Somewhere

Sorry it's been a while. Things got busy, and then when they slowed down, I got a little homesick. But I'm feeling better now, and since it's a nice, quiet Saturday, but still a little too cold to go exploring, I'm finally updating. Let's see...

Maybe blogger will be nicer this time and let me put up more pictures.




Leeds Castle was gorgeous, and it had great gardens and such around it. Becky and I thought we made friends with a peacock, but he was just begging for handouts and when he found out I didn't have any, he tried to eat my leg. No good.

The next "adventure" was to the Tower of London with my English Country Houses and Palaces class. Our class mostly focused on the White Tower in the middle of the castle.



It was built by the Normans shortly after the Norman Invasion in 1066, so this building is nearly a thousand years old. After having the year 1066 drilled into my head in Latin class (It was turning point for language as we know it, apparently), it was interesting to be able to connect something with it.

There were lots of other neat things at the Tower. The Crown Jewels were unbelievably sparkly, but, sadly, no pictures allowed. Helpful signs showed you where you could do your shopping, find the bus stop, and, apparently, get beheaded.



Last weekend, I went on the school trip to the city of Bath. I was geeking out over all the Roman things at the bath, and even --yes, I'll admit it--bought a copy of Harry Potter in Latin.

The city was built around an old Roman bath on the hot springs in the area. The baths were dedicated to the goddess Minerva



Well... That's the main bath. I was going to put up a couple more pictures, but Blogger has decided that I've put up enough.

My theater class also went to see Spring Awakening last Monday (even with the crazy snow-- I'll have to post pictures of that too. I'll try and do another post tomorrow). It was a really neat show. I loved the music. It was kind of a shocking show; not what I was expecting, and not the kind of show you'd want to take your grandma to see, but I loved it.

I was going to go on an adventure today to find the part of London where some of my family is from, but it's a bit on the chilly side, so I might wait for the weather to get warmer.

They've Got Years On Us

It rains here a lot, but I like the rain. It's not very warm, but I don't do heat very well. I'm loving being here. There are so many things to do and places to see. I love being able to wake up on a Friday morning and say to my friends, "What should we do today?" and they reply, "I don't know.... Hey, let's go to the British Museum!" and we hop on the tube and go there.

I also love meeting up with my friends on Friday afternoon and saying "What do you want to do tonight?" and they reply "Do you want to go to a show? We could see which shows have half-price tickets!" and then going to a professional musical on the west end for £25.

I also went to see Leeds Castle, which was gorgeous.

I have far too many pictures to put them all up to show all the awesome things I've seen at the museum and on the castle grounds. I am in awe of how old some of the things are. I've seen things that are thousands and thousands of years old, and they're in great condition. It floors me to think of the people who made these things. When they made those pots and urns and carvings, I'm sure they wanted them to last, but probably had no idea that they would last this long and that people would be walking by them en masse to admire them. I have more pictures to put up, but blogger is being mean and not letting me at the moment. I'll add them later.

This Paper Posed as Photographs

We had some nice weather for a bit and some of us decided to do the tourist thing and go on one of the Double Decker bus tours. It seems like the annoying, cliché thing to do, but I highly recommend it. The tour guides are great and you get to see everything. It's also pretty reasonably priced and you can get off the bus at any of the stops and look around and take pictures and get back on the next bus. Our ticket also included a free tour down the Thames on a little boat, which was pretty neat.

I'm still getting used to being here and all of the things that are different, but it's a lot of fun. Classes started on Monday as well. They seem to be going pretty well, and I have a couple that go on field trips, so I'll have pictures from those as well before long.

Regent's Park


One of the lions in Trafalgar Square


Big Ben and Boudicca


Apple!


Tower Bridge