Never a dull moment
Even the ordinary can be extraordinary! Writer. Teacher. Food lover. Student. Drummer.
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KASSIETERKELSON.COM
To drum or not to drum?
I deserve a new drum set. Don't get me wrong. I'm glad for the one I have now. It's rusty blue and a little used. I've had it over a year. The guy I bought it from promised that I could learn on it, and I have.
But the base doesn't have legs. (I squish two green towels under it so it doesn't fall over while I'm playing; it's usually effective.) The ball on the end of the foot pedal sometimes flies off when I'm playing because I have the wrong size of screws. And the snare stand prongs are taped with duct tape.
I've been playing for a little over two years. Not very much, though. As a grad student, I don't get much time for practicing.
Recently, however, I was asked to participate in a talent show at church. I didn't have time to practice on my own let alone with the other members of the group. I figured that they would find someone else since I had class that night anyway...
My night class ended early, though. And they really needed a drummer...
So, there I am. I'm walking to my truck, trying to decide what to do. I still hadn't had dinner, nor done my homework for the next day. It's nearly 7:30pm... the talent show started at 7pm. Our band was on, probably, around 8pm. I'd have to pack up my beat-up-set all the way to the building, set it up (not forgetting the towels so the whole thing doesn't fall over) in a matter of seconds so we can do our 1-2 minute unrehearsed song and then haul the whole thing back home before I need to go to bed and get ready for another long day at school.
Is it worth all the work?
Do I drum?
My hand reaches for the phone, and before I know it, I'm texting my friend: "No worries. I'll play. Just help me with my set."
In a flash, I'm home, and my friend is there too. We're packing up the set in my truck and we're on our way. We wait for a long time in the hall, just outside the stairs that lead up to the stage. Another act is on. Someone singing.
While I wait, I learn what song we're doing. I also discover the other members of the band. We're all friends. I just don't know who is actually playing. Like me, some of them may choose to play at the last minute.
And then, it's time. Everyone grabs part of my drum set, and then we're on stage. The curtain is still hiding us. One towel. Good. Second towel. Not good. I readjust it. Okay. Good. now, how far should the crash be? Okay. Good. Oh, the snare. I like it close—-but not too close—-to the base drum foot pedal. I'm still adjusting the head of the snare when the curtains open.
Our group is announced, and I'm twisting my snare. It shouldn't be lying flat. I want it at an angle. That way I don't hit the rim unless I actually want to.
The piano starts. I tap the high hat. Singing begins. It's a duet. I'm adding the base. (Please, pedal! Don't fall off!) Okay. Snare. errr—— still not at the angle I want.
Tap.
Twist.
Tap.
Twist.
Leave it alone, Kassie.
Tap.
Kick.
Tap.
Okay, at first I am a little timid, but near the middle, I gain some confidence and throw in a couple fills. I dragged these Toms all the way up the stage; I should use them, hey?
The curtains close as the audience cheers.
We all grab a piece of the set, including my friend who roped me into this. And then BAM. The snare falls. It's okay. But the duct tape on the stand will need to be reapplied.
My first "gig." Not too bad.
Yeah, new drum set would be good. Time to save up.
**Video coming soon**
I teach English... as a Second Language
So, I'm getting my hair cut. Chit-chat is unavoidable. (I defiantly prefer hair salon chit chat to the kind you get at the dentist, though. Really? You're going to ask me questions...wh-questions, nonetheless, that I can't just shake or nod my head in response to...while you have all of your tools in my mouth?!)
"So, you said you're a student? What do you study?" the hair stylist asks me.
"I'm getting my Master's in TESOL... Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages."
"Oh, so what languages do you speak?"
Stop.
Think about the question.
I get this a lot. Not just from my hairstylist. I understand that she and those of you who have asked a similar question to me or to one of my fellow TESOL classmates are not familiar with the TESOL world. And it's changed a lot over the years. I get that. But think about the question.
The answer is, I teach ENGLISH... not the other language. Yes, I know it helps to know the other language, especially for beginners, but in the world of TESOL, most teachers don't speak the "other" language. They speak English. We teach English to a unique and diverse population of students. Sometimes, the students don't share the same native language.
I know you just want start to a conversation. You're like my hairstylist. And, yes, you're right: TESOL is interesting. It's maybe new to you and your everyday conversations. Most people tell you that they're studying business, engineering, history, maybe economics.
I've tried several ways to reword my answer to what my degree is so people can think before asking the wrong question. For example, I try to slow it down. I take a large pause. This sometimes helps. "I am studying to teach English [pause here] to speakers of other languages." or "I teach English [big pause here] as a second language." I still get the question. They're not thinking before asking. But then again, they probably don't know better. Maybe you don't know about TESOL like I do; it's not your degree. It's okay.
The question, 'what languages do you know?' is not going to get you very far. Instead, try these:
- Where do you plan to teach?
People who TESOL often travel. We all have our dream jobs. (Mine would be in Australia... and ha ha! You're funny. I gotta teach those Australians how to speak English. You think I haven't heard that one before?! No, Silly. They have a lot of immigrants and refugees who need to learn English to get better jobs and provide for their families. They also have international/ foreign students studying at universities, just like in the USA, who need a bit of help.... Either Australia or Dubai. They pay teachers really well in UAE.)
- Do you have a particular target population you'd like to teach? What level? Which skill... reading, writing, listening, speaking?
Oftentimes, we TESOL students desire to teach a particular level or skill. Personally, I'd like to specialize in writing.—-Of course!-— But others would prefer to teach listening and speaking while others like to specialize in Business English or Grammar.
I won't snap at you if you ask your question poorly. Promise. But I thought I'd let you know some better ways ask what you want to know. After all, I know what your question really is. It's the same one you asked me when I got my Bachelor's in English. "What can you do with THAT?" Trust me; TESOL is big. It's been around for a long time, and it's growing like crazy, all around the world.
"What languages do you speak?" my hairstylist asks, looking at my reflection. (Hairstylists always talk to the mirror.)
"I speak a little Spanish," I tell her."And I'm going to learn some German.But, I will teach English, and believe it or not, a lot of jobs don't require you to know the other language to teach English as a foreign language. This is true for the jobs I am especially interested in. I plan to teach at the university level. I hope to specialize in writing..."
"Oh," she says, now looking at my hair. "That's nice. Do you like the weather?"
Okay. Maybe she... and you... are not that interested in what I'm studying. That's okay, too.
I'm not your laundry mat
"Just check it," she tells me.
I stiffen and try not to get angry. I've heard this phrase too many times today.
"I'm happy you've decided to come into the Writing Center," I say, "what we do..." I slow down my speech and think carefully about what I should say next. "what we do... is help writers... not just writing... Do you have your assignment sheet with you?" She shakes her head.
"I just want you to fix it."
I'm talking even slower, trying to be even more careful with my words, but I can't help being honest with her: "I could 'fix' your paper, but then you wouldn't learn anything..." (what I want to yell is: I'M NOT GOING TO DO YOUR HOMEWORK!)... Instead, I say, "It's more beneficial for you if you allow me to help you as a writer so after you leave the center today, you will be able to transfer the ideas that I share with you into other writings. I'm not your laundry mat. I'm not here to just 'clean up your paper.'" I'm trying to make her laugh, but she doesn't even smile, so I try to give her some options.
"So, let's decide what we want to do in the time that we have together.," I say, "What are you biggest concerns?..." She gives me a blank stare. "How do you feel about your thesis statement? Would you like to work on your introduction, or transitions between paragraphs?..."
"I'm just here for the stamp," she says.
"Okay..." This time I try not to stiffen, but I'm still a little angry. "I'm happy to give you a stamp at the end of our session. May I see your assignment sheet again? Do you feel like you're doing everything you're asked to do for your assignment?"
"I actually have class soon. I didn't know this was going to take so much time." She starts to packs her things..
"Okay. That's alright. Just so you know for next time, a tutoring session is about 20 minutes long, so maybe next time you can come in a little earlier. Thanks again for coming in..." She's heading for the door.
Never a dull moment
I stiffen and try not to get angry. I've heard this phrase too many times today.
"I'm happy you've decided to come into the Writing Center," I say, "what we do..." I slow down my speech and think carefully about what I should say next. "what we do... is help writers... not just writing... Do you have your assignment sheet with you?" She shakes her head.
"I just want you to fix it."
I'm talking even slower, trying to be even more careful with my words, but I can't help being honest with her: "I could 'fix' your paper, but then you wouldn't learn anything..." (what I want to yell is: I'M NOT GOING TO DO YOUR HOMEWORK!)... Instead, I say, "It's more beneficial for you if you allow me to help you as a writer so after you leave the center today, you will be able to transfer the ideas that I share with you into other writings. I'm not your laundry mat. I'm not here to just 'clean up your paper.'" I'm trying to make her laugh, but she doesn't even smile, so I try to give her some options.
"So, let's decide what we want to do in the time that we have together.," I say, "What are you biggest concerns?..." She gives me a blank stare. "How do you feel about your thesis statement? Would you like to work on your introduction, or transitions between paragraphs?..."
"I'm just here for the stamp," she says.
"Okay..." This time I try not to stiffen, but I'm still a little angry. "I'm happy to give you a stamp at the end of our session. May I see your assignment sheet again? Do you feel like you're doing everything you're asked to do for your assignment?"
"I actually have class soon. I didn't know this was going to take so much time." She starts to packs her things..
"Okay. That's alright. Just so you know for next time, a tutoring session is about 20 minutes long, so maybe next time you can come in a little earlier. Thanks again for coming in..." She's heading for the door.
Never a dull moment
Sonic Smoothie night
I'm catching up with a friend, and she says to me, "Hey, you want to go get something to eat? My treat!" If any of you know me, you know what my answer is: "Food? Free? Okay!"
She takes me to Sonic, and I have a hard time deciding what I want because I don't eat out very often, and I'm actually not that hungry for once. I'm just there to talk. We talk, actually, for 10 minutes before we actually order anything. We get the new sweet potato tots, which aren't too bad, some mozzarella sticks to share, and a giant slushy each. I got a lemon berry, and she got peach. I'm kind of jealous that she ordered so quickly. She says, though, that she gets the same thing every time, doesn't like to try new things. Having her order the sweet potato tots was a stretch.
After we get our food, we drive to her house and sit and talk. You know how it is. Two girls get together, and we talk about, well, a lot of things, but mostly boys. We're giggling, joking, and eating together. Fun times.
"Wow. This peach smoothie is good," she tells me.
"Let me try. Do you want to try my lemon berry?" I say. We swap smoothies.
"This is actually really good," she tells me. "I don't usually like trying new things, but that's good. Sweeter than I thought. Not really sour at all."
"Yeah, that's what I think, too, " I say. "I think it's the berries. And yours is thicker than I thought. That's pretty great!"
We continue talking, now gossiping about mutual friends—- who's dating whom, etc. I don't do that often, but it's sometimes fun.
Finally, during one of the lulls in our conversation. (You've been in one.) She opens up her smoothie to look at it. "This has a strawberry in it. Real fruit. I ordered peach..."
I instinctively open the lid on my Sonic smoothie, too. "Actually, this is too thin to be a lemon berry smoothie. Maybe this is your peach."
Never a dull moment!
She takes me to Sonic, and I have a hard time deciding what I want because I don't eat out very often, and I'm actually not that hungry for once. I'm just there to talk. We talk, actually, for 10 minutes before we actually order anything. We get the new sweet potato tots, which aren't too bad, some mozzarella sticks to share, and a giant slushy each. I got a lemon berry, and she got peach. I'm kind of jealous that she ordered so quickly. She says, though, that she gets the same thing every time, doesn't like to try new things. Having her order the sweet potato tots was a stretch.
After we get our food, we drive to her house and sit and talk. You know how it is. Two girls get together, and we talk about, well, a lot of things, but mostly boys. We're giggling, joking, and eating together. Fun times.
"Wow. This peach smoothie is good," she tells me.
"Let me try. Do you want to try my lemon berry?" I say. We swap smoothies.
"This is actually really good," she tells me. "I don't usually like trying new things, but that's good. Sweeter than I thought. Not really sour at all."
"Yeah, that's what I think, too, " I say. "I think it's the berries. And yours is thicker than I thought. That's pretty great!"
We continue talking, now gossiping about mutual friends—- who's dating whom, etc. I don't do that often, but it's sometimes fun.
Finally, during one of the lulls in our conversation. (You've been in one.) She opens up her smoothie to look at it. "This has a strawberry in it. Real fruit. I ordered peach..."
I instinctively open the lid on my Sonic smoothie, too. "Actually, this is too thin to be a lemon berry smoothie. Maybe this is your peach."
Never a dull moment!
The girl with the truck
You've been there.
You know, in that situation where you're moving, and there's no way that your sofa, bed, or entertainment center will fit in your car, and you think, "Man! Where's a truck when you need it?" Or that time when you're doing yard work or some kind of project outside, and you know it would be simpler and faster if that person with a truck was here right now to help you.
I think I've always wanted to be that person.
Now I am.
I started off with a Geo Prism. It was my first car, and I was 16. I loved that thing. I called it Babs, and had wonderful memories that I will forever treasure. I drove it everywhere. I had it throughout high school, and beyond.
And then I decided to move to Arizona for grad school. How was I going to get there? Of course I'll take my drum set. hmmm... Where's that person with a truck? I could rent a moving van, I guess. But I've always wanted to be that person... you know, that girl with the truck anyway...so...
It was a very difficult decision, but I sold Babs to a nice, young couple making their way through college, and I bought my used 2004 Toyota Tacoma. Dad helped me find it. An awesome deal. The truck was meant for me.
I packed everything I needed for grad school in the small truck, including my drum set, and drove the 10 hours to Arizona. Probably one of the best days of my life. Just me, my drum set, other belongings, a stack of CDs to listen to, and a GPS. It was an awesome drive. It was like a symbolic journey, leaving behind the old and stepping into the new.
I've been living here in Arizona for almost an entire year. I've had my truck for that long, too. And I think I'm adapted to being the girl with the truck fairly well. I've helped a few friends move. Not so much yard work, yet, though. I'm happy to use my truck for stuff like that.
Basically, love being that girl. You know, that girl with the truck.
Having a vehicle can seem ordinary, but not for me. It's extraordinary.
Never a dull moment.
You know, in that situation where you're moving, and there's no way that your sofa, bed, or entertainment center will fit in your car, and you think, "Man! Where's a truck when you need it?" Or that time when you're doing yard work or some kind of project outside, and you know it would be simpler and faster if that person with a truck was here right now to help you.
I think I've always wanted to be that person.
Now I am.
I started off with a Geo Prism. It was my first car, and I was 16. I loved that thing. I called it Babs, and had wonderful memories that I will forever treasure. I drove it everywhere. I had it throughout high school, and beyond.
And then I decided to move to Arizona for grad school. How was I going to get there? Of course I'll take my drum set. hmmm... Where's that person with a truck? I could rent a moving van, I guess. But I've always wanted to be that person... you know, that girl with the truck anyway...so...
It was a very difficult decision, but I sold Babs to a nice, young couple making their way through college, and I bought my used 2004 Toyota Tacoma. Dad helped me find it. An awesome deal. The truck was meant for me.
I packed everything I needed for grad school in the small truck, including my drum set, and drove the 10 hours to Arizona. Probably one of the best days of my life. Just me, my drum set, other belongings, a stack of CDs to listen to, and a GPS. It was an awesome drive. It was like a symbolic journey, leaving behind the old and stepping into the new.
I've been living here in Arizona for almost an entire year. I've had my truck for that long, too. And I think I'm adapted to being the girl with the truck fairly well. I've helped a few friends move. Not so much yard work, yet, though. I'm happy to use my truck for stuff like that.
Basically, love being that girl. You know, that girl with the truck.
Having a vehicle can seem ordinary, but not for me. It's extraordinary.
Never a dull moment.
Traveling Bug
I got a postcard in the mail today. Awesome! I love getting mail! Who doesn't, yeah?
It was from a friend, Aleshea, who is currently visiting London. It's her first time leaving the States.. Not only that... she's leaving her humble-hick-town in Southern Utah for the first time. To say the least, she was a bit nervous, not only to get on a plane, but to be so far away from home. Of course she is prone to feeling a bit of travel anxiety. People often do—- though I don't know if I ever did. Traveling for me has become innate, like breathing almost.
Mutual friends were concerned for Aleshea, however. They told me, "Yeah, Kassie—- I'm worried about her. She's gonna get her money stolen or something." Valid concerns, I suppose, but I think she'll be smart about that; more than likely she'll be over-cautious about herself and her belongings because she's in unfamiliar territory.
Naw, my advice to her wasn't about safety and security. I knew she'd get plenty of that from other people. I told her to love it—- and be prepared to want to travel again. Once you travel— you won' be content staying at home.
Her postcard said, then: "London and Scotland have been amazing! You are right, already I have gotten the traveling bug and cannot wait for my next adventure!..."
My traveling adventures, thus far, have included:
Never a dull moment.
It was from a friend, Aleshea, who is currently visiting London. It's her first time leaving the States.. Not only that... she's leaving her humble-hick-town in Southern Utah for the first time. To say the least, she was a bit nervous, not only to get on a plane, but to be so far away from home. Of course she is prone to feeling a bit of travel anxiety. People often do—- though I don't know if I ever did. Traveling for me has become innate, like breathing almost.
Mutual friends were concerned for Aleshea, however. They told me, "Yeah, Kassie—- I'm worried about her. She's gonna get her money stolen or something." Valid concerns, I suppose, but I think she'll be smart about that; more than likely she'll be over-cautious about herself and her belongings because she's in unfamiliar territory.
Naw, my advice to her wasn't about safety and security. I knew she'd get plenty of that from other people. I told her to love it—- and be prepared to want to travel again. Once you travel— you won' be content staying at home.
Her postcard said, then: "London and Scotland have been amazing! You are right, already I have gotten the traveling bug and cannot wait for my next adventure!..."
My traveling adventures, thus far, have included:
- roughly 26 of the 50 States (some more than others—- and I'm hoping to reach ALL someday)
- Canada (at least twice)
- Mexico (namely Tijuana—- I'd like to try other parts of Mexico.)
- Australia (Perth, Sydney... and soon both again including Brisbane)
- UAE (Dubai and Abu Dhabi)
Never a dull moment.
A "sicky's" party
"No!" I scream at the TV as the credits start to roll, "he doesn't understand! She DOES love him! She just... can't say it!" My roommate chuckles...stands, coughs, and puts the next disk of North and South, a BBC series, in the DVD player and then sits back down, wrapping herself up in a green blanket.
I'm on the other couch. Next to me is an empty carton of orange juice, a million used tissues, halls cough drops scattered on the floor, and a box of tissues. I am a caterpillar in a blanket, supported by pillows. Both of us are in our PJs. It's about 3pm.
"Does that guy ever smile?" I ask Kathy.
"At the very end.... It's a rare gift."
The front door opens, and our other roommate enters. She looks at the TV and then at us. "What's going on?" She asks.
"A sicky party." I tell her, and Kathy and I chuckle and cough at the same time.
(Ok. Are you ready for some analogies?... Stay with me here...)
How do you get back on your feet?
I have a of get-well-recipe I'd like to share with you:
1- "Flush it out."
My mum taught it to me. She always told me, "flush it out," to which I always replied with an exaggerated, "eeeeewwww!" But that's really what works best for me. I drink heaps and heaps of liquid, namely orange juice (with pulp!) and I go to the bathroom frequently.
Sometimes bad things happen in your life, or you make poor choices... and you can't change them. After trying all you can, sometimes it's best just to "flush" them. Oh, well. Try better next time.
2- Get lots of sleep.
I slept Wednesday night from 8pm to Thursday 2pm, and I ended up canceling my things for today, Friday, and stayed home. I slept in heaps, ate soup for breakfast, and napped for most of the day. Kathy stayed home from work today since she was sick, too.
Sometimes, you gotta give yourself a break! Life is tough, and if you are go-go-go-go all the time, you'll wear yourself out. Take time for yourself.
3- Stay positive!
Being sick is no fun, that's for sure. And I actually consider myself fortunate because I hardly ever get sick, and I usually get over it rather quickly. This cold has been different. It's lasted longer than 3 days, which I suppose is normal for a lot of people. I, personally, do not have the patience for being sick!
What I've learned from this experience is the need to stay positive. And I surely enjoyed hanging out with Kathy and watching North and South. I may be coughing and blowing my nose like crazy, but at least I have food, a job, and a roof over my head, which is more than what many of the people in the BBC series had.
There is much to learn from our somewhat mundane trials (like a cold). Patience, humility, and perhaps, optimism.
The guy at the end of North and South finally smiled! He was burdened with the city's sorrows, but he finally won the friendship and love of a remarkable woman, and he smiled! He is better looking when he smiles. So are we.
Being sick can oftentimes seem ordinary. But you can make it extraordinary.
Never a dull moment.
I'm on the other couch. Next to me is an empty carton of orange juice, a million used tissues, halls cough drops scattered on the floor, and a box of tissues. I am a caterpillar in a blanket, supported by pillows. Both of us are in our PJs. It's about 3pm.
"Does that guy ever smile?" I ask Kathy.
"At the very end.... It's a rare gift."
The front door opens, and our other roommate enters. She looks at the TV and then at us. "What's going on?" She asks.
"A sicky party." I tell her, and Kathy and I chuckle and cough at the same time.
(Ok. Are you ready for some analogies?... Stay with me here...)
How do you get back on your feet?
I have a of get-well-recipe I'd like to share with you:
1- "Flush it out."
My mum taught it to me. She always told me, "flush it out," to which I always replied with an exaggerated, "eeeeewwww!" But that's really what works best for me. I drink heaps and heaps of liquid, namely orange juice (with pulp!) and I go to the bathroom frequently.
Sometimes bad things happen in your life, or you make poor choices... and you can't change them. After trying all you can, sometimes it's best just to "flush" them. Oh, well. Try better next time.
2- Get lots of sleep.
I slept Wednesday night from 8pm to Thursday 2pm, and I ended up canceling my things for today, Friday, and stayed home. I slept in heaps, ate soup for breakfast, and napped for most of the day. Kathy stayed home from work today since she was sick, too.
Sometimes, you gotta give yourself a break! Life is tough, and if you are go-go-go-go all the time, you'll wear yourself out. Take time for yourself.
3- Stay positive!
Being sick is no fun, that's for sure. And I actually consider myself fortunate because I hardly ever get sick, and I usually get over it rather quickly. This cold has been different. It's lasted longer than 3 days, which I suppose is normal for a lot of people. I, personally, do not have the patience for being sick!
What I've learned from this experience is the need to stay positive. And I surely enjoyed hanging out with Kathy and watching North and South. I may be coughing and blowing my nose like crazy, but at least I have food, a job, and a roof over my head, which is more than what many of the people in the BBC series had.
There is much to learn from our somewhat mundane trials (like a cold). Patience, humility, and perhaps, optimism.
The guy at the end of North and South finally smiled! He was burdened with the city's sorrows, but he finally won the friendship and love of a remarkable woman, and he smiled! He is better looking when he smiles. So are we.
Being sick can oftentimes seem ordinary. But you can make it extraordinary.
Never a dull moment.
I just about die... every time
So...I'm watching a movie with my roommates. X-Men. So... I had never seen it before. Well, I saw the one with Night-Crawler, and maybe the one before that. I can't remember. This is the one with "Mr.Tumnus" from Narnia as the Professor. I think it's the "prequel" to the others.
Anyway, we're watching, and you know, that guy who screams and flies... He has the ability to scream really loud, and they figure out a way for him to scream at the ground and use the sound waves to make him fly. Well, anyway, he's flying, and then he dives into the water so he can find the submarine that Kevin Bacon is on, and...*inhale!* I'm holding my breath.
Confession: I hold my breath every time I watch a movie and a character (or even just the camera) goes under water. Usually my Mum will tap me and tell me to breath. But my mum isn't here, so I'm holding my breath, and I just about die because even after the camera moves, I know that the "screamy" guy is under water still holding his breath, so I feel like I must hold my breath, too. Why? I don't know. Most of the time I don't even know that I'm doing it.
Finally I realize what I'm doing and I exhale. "Oh," I explain to my roommates and my roommate's friend Josh who hears my giant sigh, "I hold my breath every time the camera goes under water."
And then Josh says, "I used to do that when I was little."
"Oh, thanks," I tell him. And we all laugh.
Seriously, it's a problem, and it's kind of complex. See, when I watch Finding Nemo, I hold my breath when they leave the water. Go figure.
One of these days, I'm afraid, I will be watching a movie or something, and the camera or character will go under water for a long period of time, and no one will remind me to breathe, and I'll die. What a way to go! Really. Can you just see the news' headline?
"Girl holds breath and dies in living room while watching a movie."
Watching a movie can seem ordinary, but not when it's with me. It's extraordinary.
Never a dull moment.
Anyway, we're watching, and you know, that guy who screams and flies... He has the ability to scream really loud, and they figure out a way for him to scream at the ground and use the sound waves to make him fly. Well, anyway, he's flying, and then he dives into the water so he can find the submarine that Kevin Bacon is on, and...*inhale!* I'm holding my breath.
Confession: I hold my breath every time I watch a movie and a character (or even just the camera) goes under water. Usually my Mum will tap me and tell me to breath. But my mum isn't here, so I'm holding my breath, and I just about die because even after the camera moves, I know that the "screamy" guy is under water still holding his breath, so I feel like I must hold my breath, too. Why? I don't know. Most of the time I don't even know that I'm doing it.
Finally I realize what I'm doing and I exhale. "Oh," I explain to my roommates and my roommate's friend Josh who hears my giant sigh, "I hold my breath every time the camera goes under water."
And then Josh says, "I used to do that when I was little."
"Oh, thanks," I tell him. And we all laugh.
Seriously, it's a problem, and it's kind of complex. See, when I watch Finding Nemo, I hold my breath when they leave the water. Go figure.
One of these days, I'm afraid, I will be watching a movie or something, and the camera or character will go under water for a long period of time, and no one will remind me to breathe, and I'll die. What a way to go! Really. Can you just see the news' headline?
"Girl holds breath and dies in living room while watching a movie."
Watching a movie can seem ordinary, but not when it's with me. It's extraordinary.
Never a dull moment.
What gets you out of bed in the morning?
Picture this:
"Beep! Beep! Beep!" Your alarm goes off in the morning. (If your alarm doesn't 'beep,' just imagine what sound it does make, ok?) It's early. You know you have important things to do today. Maybe you're in school. Maybe you have a job. Maybe you set the alarm early so you can exercise. It doesn't matter. You have two thoughts:
1. I could get up.
2. I could hit the snooze.
Maybe you do hit the snooze. That's ok. I admit it; sometimes I do that too. But what exactly gets you out of bed?
I'll tell you what it is for me.
Here's how I see it. I spend all night without eating! That's 6-8 hours, roughly, where I do nothing but sleep. Sure, I like and understand the importance of obtaining adequate amount of sleep, but—- gosh—- I get hungry!
I'm a fairly heavy sleeper, but if for some chance, I do wake up in the middle of the night, it's hard for me to sleep because... my stomach wakes up, and it growls. And I'm hungry. I guess I could get midnight snacks when that happens, but I was told that it's not very healthy to eat really late at nights; besides, it's better to wait it out because—- oh! Breakfast! It will be that much more worth the wait!
So, yes, like many of you, I hit the snooze. But most of the times, my alarm goes off, and I have three thoughts:
1. I could wake up.
2. I could hit the snooze.
3. Oh! Breakfast! *This is often followed by an energetic leap out of bed.*
Even waking up can become an extraordinary event.
Never a dull moment.
"Beep! Beep! Beep!" Your alarm goes off in the morning. (If your alarm doesn't 'beep,' just imagine what sound it does make, ok?) It's early. You know you have important things to do today. Maybe you're in school. Maybe you have a job. Maybe you set the alarm early so you can exercise. It doesn't matter. You have two thoughts:
1. I could get up.
2. I could hit the snooze.
Maybe you do hit the snooze. That's ok. I admit it; sometimes I do that too. But what exactly gets you out of bed?
I'll tell you what it is for me.
Breakfast!
Yes, there are generally other thoughts that go through my head as I decide whether I will actually get out of bed or not, but the biggest decision factor for me is my bowl of Weet-bix and fruit or blue berry pancakes, scrambled eggs, french toast, or whatever I happen to choose to eat that morning. I love breakfast! Here's how I see it. I spend all night without eating! That's 6-8 hours, roughly, where I do nothing but sleep. Sure, I like and understand the importance of obtaining adequate amount of sleep, but—- gosh—- I get hungry!
I'm a fairly heavy sleeper, but if for some chance, I do wake up in the middle of the night, it's hard for me to sleep because... my stomach wakes up, and it growls. And I'm hungry. I guess I could get midnight snacks when that happens, but I was told that it's not very healthy to eat really late at nights; besides, it's better to wait it out because—- oh! Breakfast! It will be that much more worth the wait!
So, yes, like many of you, I hit the snooze. But most of the times, my alarm goes off, and I have three thoughts:
1. I could wake up.
2. I could hit the snooze.
3. Oh! Breakfast! *This is often followed by an energetic leap out of bed.*
Even waking up can become an extraordinary event.
Never a dull moment.
"It's okay. I'll just break into your house."
I text my friend Jake and ask him if I can come over tomorrow. He lives practically down the street from me, and he's always telling me that I should come pick his tangerines and lemons off his trees. He has way too many!
"I'm free anytime tomorrow before 11am," I tell him. "When is a good time to come over? 9? 10?" He says that 8am is best. I'm thinking—- that's a little earlier than I was planning to wake up on my morning off of school, but it's worth it for tangerines!
So, the next morning, I wake up early and ride my bike over to his house. I get there just a little after 8am. Jake has two entrances to his house. I seem to always forget where the front entrance is, so I just go to the one I know. I get there, and the door is locked.
I pop out my phone and call him. "Hi, Jake! I'm here for the tangerines!" I tell him.
"What?" he says, sounding sleepy and not like himself. "Who is this?"
"It's Kassie. I'm here for the tangerines."
"Where are you?"
"I'm at the entrance that I know. You know, the back way."
"Ok." Long pause. He must be really sleepy. "Sorry, what was your question?"
"TANGERINES! TANGERINES! I'm here for the tangerines."
"Ok." Another long pause.
"I don't know how to get in. The door is locked." I tell him. Boy, he must really be tired!
"Oh, yeah! I'll be there in minute." He hangs up, and I wait patiently by the door. After a couple minutes, he calls me back. "Where do you think I live?" He asks. What a weird question. I tell him his address. He tells me that he actually lives on a different street, but I think he's just telling me to go to the front door.
"It's okay." I finally tell him, "I'll just break into your house." I know that he usually keeps his gate unlocked, so I planned to just go through that way and get to his backyard. I've done it before. His dogs know me.
"What Jake do you think this is?" He asks me.
"Jake T, of course. Is this not?"
"I'm Jake J."
"Oh! I'm so sorry! I'm embarrassed. Jake is too common of a name! You should change your name. No, seriously. I'm sooooo sorry! I woke you up and everything. Sorry!"
"It's okay. Have a good day." I hang up. After feeling a bit embarrassed, I laugh it off and go to the side gate and let myself in. I pick the tangerines.
After I finish getting what I want, I send a text to Jake, making sure that it's the right one before I send it. It reads,"Jake, thanks for the tangerines. I helped myself. Your dogs didn't mind."
He texts back, "Why didn't you call? I'm here."
I think to myself.... I did.
Never a dull moment.
"I'm free anytime tomorrow before 11am," I tell him. "When is a good time to come over? 9? 10?" He says that 8am is best. I'm thinking—- that's a little earlier than I was planning to wake up on my morning off of school, but it's worth it for tangerines!
So, the next morning, I wake up early and ride my bike over to his house. I get there just a little after 8am. Jake has two entrances to his house. I seem to always forget where the front entrance is, so I just go to the one I know. I get there, and the door is locked.
I pop out my phone and call him. "Hi, Jake! I'm here for the tangerines!" I tell him.
"What?" he says, sounding sleepy and not like himself. "Who is this?"
"It's Kassie. I'm here for the tangerines."
"Where are you?"
"I'm at the entrance that I know. You know, the back way."
"Ok." Long pause. He must be really sleepy. "Sorry, what was your question?"
"TANGERINES! TANGERINES! I'm here for the tangerines."
"Ok." Another long pause.
"I don't know how to get in. The door is locked." I tell him. Boy, he must really be tired!
"Oh, yeah! I'll be there in minute." He hangs up, and I wait patiently by the door. After a couple minutes, he calls me back. "Where do you think I live?" He asks. What a weird question. I tell him his address. He tells me that he actually lives on a different street, but I think he's just telling me to go to the front door.
"It's okay." I finally tell him, "I'll just break into your house." I know that he usually keeps his gate unlocked, so I planned to just go through that way and get to his backyard. I've done it before. His dogs know me.
"What Jake do you think this is?" He asks me.
"Jake T, of course. Is this not?"
"I'm Jake J."
"Oh! I'm so sorry! I'm embarrassed. Jake is too common of a name! You should change your name. No, seriously. I'm sooooo sorry! I woke you up and everything. Sorry!"
"It's okay. Have a good day." I hang up. After feeling a bit embarrassed, I laugh it off and go to the side gate and let myself in. I pick the tangerines.
After I finish getting what I want, I send a text to Jake, making sure that it's the right one before I send it. It reads,"Jake, thanks for the tangerines. I helped myself. Your dogs didn't mind."
He texts back, "Why didn't you call? I'm here."
I think to myself.... I did.
Never a dull moment.