A Real Life Nearly Horror Story

It all started off like a normal evening. Work. I was supposed to get off at 9:15, but they didn't let me off until 9:35, and I didn't leave until 10. My till was off 35 cents, and I decided to write down my schedule, request Claire's wedding off, and then I ran up to get my purse from my locker. No big deal. A normal night. I casually strolled out to my car, watching customers come and go from our parking lot. It's a long walk to the employee section of the parking lot, but no big deal.
I unlocked my car, and got in, noticing that the moon is almost to the waxing gibbous stage - approaching a full moon. One window was slightly open, so I rolled it up. It was relaxing to sit alone at night in my car; relaxing to drive home. As I pulled up to a light, it turned green just for me. I was almost the only car to make it through the short light, but a car behind me sped up to make the yellow light. They got pretty close behind me, blinding me. I slowed down to turn left, and saw there was a gap just big enough for one car to make it across. So I turned. The car behind me proved me wrong, tailing me close enough to barely make the gap. I turned right. The car turned right. *shrug* "A lot of cars take this route to get to the high way." I thought. "This road leads a lot of places."
I turned left. The car turned left. Instead of finally giving me space like I expected it too, the bright lights in my rear view continued to ride my tail. I sped up. They sped up. Apparently I wasn't going fast enough for them. I was starting to get annoyed. I switched lanes to let them pass. They switched lanes, almost as if I was towing them. A little bit of fear began to creep into the back of my mind. They couldn't be following me, could they?
I finally came to the turn-off into my rural neighborhood. "Now I'll turn to go home, and they will keep going. Just watch," I reasoned. I turned on my blinker.... and they turned on their blinker! They were still following me! I started to worry. I had a couple of miles left to go to my house and I definitely didn't want them to know where I lived. I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Options began to race through my mind. I could keep driving past my house until they stopped following me. That seemed logical. But what if they didn't stop following me??

They were still riding my bumper, blinding me. They started to flash their brights on and off, as if to catch my attention. My next thought was "Maybe they are following me just to warn me something is wrong with my car". Then I thought about it, and realized my lights were working fine, I would feel it if a tire was flat, and they wouldn't follow me this far for failing brake lights. "Maybe it's a cop, then". This failed under closer inspection also. The lights were rectangular like a truck, or jeep, not like a cop car. I really started to freak out.

Next option: Call home. At work my cell phone sits in my locker without reception, so it often runs out its battery searching for service. I begged for it to not be dead. I pulled it out and... whew. One bar left of battery. I had a couple of missed calls, but I ignored those, thought about calling Willie (he was a missed call), but just called the home phone instead. Mom answered.
"Mom. Someone is following me and I don't know what to do." My voice was shaking.
"What? Where are you??"
After a short conversation - look up, yep, headlights still bright and close in my rear view - my mom tells me to drive to the church parking lot across the street from our house, and dad would be waiting for me there. Hope starts to be an option, but my hands still tightly gripped the steering wheel, and my foot determinedly continued pressing the gas to exactly maintain the speed limit. The car continued to follow me through the miles, too close.
The lights of the church appeared, and grew in my vision. I turned on my blinker - they turned on their blinker - and turned. My brain flashed more options - what if dad wasn't there yet?? What if he wasn't there yet??? They turned on the street after the church, not into the church parking lot. And there was dad. Holding his huge, possibly-usable-as-a-weapon flashlight. Relief.

Only then did I glance over to see the vehicle that had been following me, now that its lights weren't blinding me.

It was a small white pickup, covered in rust spots, sporting an ugly, brown camper.

It was Willie. My brother.

I slowed to a stop near my dad, let go of the wheel, buried my face in my hands, and burst into tears. My dad quickly explained to Willie the situation (I can just imagine the grin of a good joke sliding off of his face as he realized that not everyone had thought it was funny). He sheepishly drove home and parked. I did, too, sobbing with relief. After hugs all around, I finally calmed down and stopped crying. My heartbeat slowly returned to normal. All the pieces fell together. The missed phone call - he had tried to tell me he was behind me. The silly swerves I had only noticed subconsciously, the flashing lights. The square headlights.
We hugged it out, talked it out, and put on pajamas. Time for bed. Wow. What a night. Potential disaster turned out just to be a badly placed joke.
But now I know what to do if it really happened...because it could happen to anyone...Including you. What would you do?

Art

Today, I had art on the brain. I wanted to paint, but not really, so I went through my art box, and had a grand old time. My blog is lacking pictures, so I decided to post some classics. Starting from the oldest.

It's only a little painful. These are from 9th grade.

pencil (haha, oh dear)

Oil on canvas (a doctor - a little creepy?)

Prismacolor on mat board. This won the art contest in my grade, earning a spot on the cover of our literary magazine. Woohoo. :)

These are from my Watercolor class my junior year of high school.

Playing around on my own time later that year (still watercolor)

From my oils class at BYU. Oils on wood.

And, I finally did a painting on my own time this summer. Oils on wood.

Wasn't that a fun little jaunt down memory lane? Somehow 8th grade art class, along with Sophomore year, senior year, and Freshman year of BYU got left out (I took art classes every year.) I'm a little too lazy right now to dig those out, though, so maybe another day.

Tragedy Strikes

Ever since I was a little, tiny kid, I have had the goal of donating blood. For some inexplicable reason, the idea draws me. I'm not scared of needles or blood, and I just want to.
As soon as I was 17 - finally old enough to donate - I signed up to do it in our high school blood drive. I talked about it all day, and was simply excited. Then they pricked my finger. Back then, they used old school technology to see if your blood had enough hemoglobin - best measured by iron content. Basically, they sucked my blood up into a little tube (micro-pipette) and dripped it into a special liquid. If it sunk, you were good - your blood was heavy enough = had enough iron. Mine floated. I was devastated. I went back to class, humiliated that I had talked it up. I cringed every time I saw someone with an arm band. Lucky.
Since then, I have tried 4 more times, sometimes waiting in line for hours, each time rejected. The latest was this Friday. I had them prick my finger first, aaaaand... fail. My iron levels were lower than they ever have been before. They even use nifty new technology that centrifuges your blood, or something like that that is pretty accurate. Lame. The computer didn't even register my iron level. The screen just said <10.5. :(
To make it worse, every time they try to make me eat the treats for the people that do donate and take a shirt saying "I donated", as if to mock me. Adding insult to injury (literally - those finger pricks bruise, and they double prick those that fail just make sure, mocking me again).
I am not defeated yet, American Red Cross! I will eat nails if I have to! Even if it takes 10 times!
(sulking in the corner, sniffing)

Personal Victory

Today I celebrated a personal victory.
I ran a mile in 9:47.
I know, I know. That really isn't that fast. But let me enlighten you on my history.
I hate running. I really do. Or maybe did. I think I am learning to like it. Anyway, the point is that I have never been a runner. In elementary school, I ran the Wellsville mile in somewhere around 9 minutes. Because I hated running so much, I didn't do it, and my attempts at running a mile in high school came in around 11-12 minutes. I haven't broken 10 minutes for so long I don't even remember the last time I did it.
This summer I have had a goal of getting in shape, so I have started running every morning. I started at a painfully slow pace, going only fractions of a mile at a time. Now I run around a mile and a half every morning. And today, gained a small victory. Woohoo!
Bring it on 5k. I will conquer you yet. :)

Reflections of a Grocery Store Cashier

As most of you know, I have been a grocery store cashier for a very long time. I only work summers, but I am starting my fourth summer working at a grocery store. What I didn't realize when I started working there was that 1) Everyone needs food, so 2) I could learn a lot about people in this job. I have made a little list of a few of those observations.

• the world is addicted to soda and gum
• anyone can be a parent, but not everyone should
• talking slower and in an accent doesn't mean that non-English speakers will understand me
• often people expect people ahead of them in line to be speedy, only to take their sweet time when they are in front of others
• kids love candy beyond comprehension
• the world encourages everyone to be healthy, eat deliciously, and spend wisely, which all often contradict
• too many married women/mothers lose their sense of self because they have to constantly think of others
• living with no windows can either make the whole world dark, or everything bright with imagination of what could be out there
• money is dirty. literally.
• if you are constantly longing for your current task to be over, you still won't be completely happy when it is
• people are naturally selfish, and only the truly awesome people overcome it
• the way your cashier treats you is very dependent on how you treat them - rude customers rarely find cashiers to be friendly people
• to every generalization there is some truth, and some lie. That is why they are called generalizations.
• people love to have someone to confide in who they won't ever see again - cashiers know many secrets
• children grow up to be a lot like their parents, which can definitely drive a parent crazy.
• verballized compliments are the only ones worth anything

I know it doesn't sound like anything you didn't already know, but I wish you could see what I am actually trying to say from the standpoint of a cashier. I wish you could all try it out for a day to see the world how we cashiers see it. It is really interesting.

New Glasses

Today I finally got my new glasses! They finally came in yesterday, but we couldn't pick them up until today. Apparently someone made a mistake, and so they had to fix it, so it took longer for my glasses to come in. Sad day. But now I have them. I quickly removed my contacts so that I could fully experience my new glasses. I put them on and was a little dizzy for a second. I haven't worn glasses in so long that I had forgotten how they bend the edges of my vision, and how things move a little when I move my head. But now I am adjusted. :) I still like contacts better, but it is exciting to have the option of glasses, and new things are always fun. :)

right. pictures.

What? You don't think I pull these off? I totally do!

Okay, fine. Here are my real glasses.

What? The beer mug glasses don't work for you either? Picky, picky.

...

tada!

The real thing. For reals. What do you think?

I hope you all like them! I am still adjusting, learning to love them, and learning how to see in glasses agan. I will mostly wear contacts, like I said, but still. I'm excited. :)

No Regrets

A philosophy of mine that I have developed over the years is living with no regrets. This means two things:

First, that I try to not do things that I will regret later. I like to say that I am constantly striving to do the right thing, and not act rashly or in the spur of the moment.
Second, when I do mess up (which happens frequently) I try to learn from it, fix it, and move on. Regretting the past does nothing for the future. I try to take the lesson I obviously needed to learn, and continue on my way.
From experience, regret does nothing but hurt. It is a sign that I haven't forgiven myself yet and really, that does no good at all. A person is made up up their experiences, and I wouldn't have learned some important lessons if I hadn't made some of the mistakes I have made. So sometimes I am grateful, not really for the mistake, but for what its role was in making me, me.
This whole train of thought came to mind when talking to my little brother. He's following me to BYU (or rather, he chose BYU, and it just happens to be the same school I chose), and I have tried to give him advice that will make his Freshman experience as fabulous as mine was. The thing is, I wasn't always wise then (or now), so there are some things I don't want him to do that I did, but I don't really know how to talk about it. I don't regret those decisions, but I want him to take a different path. I guess I just have to trust him to do the right thing. That isn't easy.

Along similar thought lines, today I watched a couple of very recent videos of myself. I'll admit, I was surprised at what I saw. I guess I don't get an outside view of myself very often.
And I'll admit, I didn't see what I wanted to see. I didn't dislike myself, but I didn't see the girl/woman that I want to be. It's humbling. I guess I have a lot of growing up and deepening to do. Because that is what I saw - the image I portrayed was that of a shallowly minded (not shallow, but shallowly minded - a ditz, almost) girl. Not intelligent, not well thought out. Not what I want to be.
So here we get into what I am striving to become: I want to be classy, well thought out, a deep thinker, intelligent, kind, fun, easily brought to laughter, but also easily brought to serious thought and discussion; a person who can think outside of the box, on all sides of an issue, and really understand; a person whose actions are consciously made and acted out skillfully; a person that is observant and is always aware of other's feelings and how best to protect them; a person who always choses the right thing; a happy person; a person who is trustworthy, easy to talk to, and friendly; a person who isn't a pushover, but isn't too prideful to change her mind when appropriate; and above all, to be myself.
I know that is a long list, but if I don't have goals, a distination, then how would I get there? I am going to try to not mess up too much, but if a few little slips are necessary in the plan to make me that woman I want to be, then so be it. I am not afraid. well, I am, but I am willing to face it. So here we go.