Tantrum- an Exercise in Personification.

The rain began to slow, the downpour becoming a mere trickle in the corner of the heavens' eye. The sky drew a breath, deep but jagged, as through a throat still constricted with the nearness of tears, and began to feel better. The trees shook in the resulting wind, dripping in imitation of the clouds above which had previously hung so heavy, the clouds whose aloof indifference to gravity's hunger had snapped in a torrential tantrum, beating the earth with soggy fists until the grass began to lose its tight grip on its beloved soil and the streets grew slick with mud. Bitter tears lay cooling, collecting in hollow places, filling uneven sidewalks until they were perfectly level. The more ambitious among them streaked along the pavement together, unmindful of traffic laws, producing rivulets with their own short-lived dreams of riverhood. The clouds were exhausted, with no more tears to sacrifice to the greedy earth, and the sky sulked like a child, having done as it was told, yet unwilling to concede defeat. Another gust of sobbing breath, carrying the threat of more tears, but this February tantrum had run its course. The sky began to collect its solemn gray dignity, breathing deeply, still obstinately unwilling to allow the sun to begin the work of drying up the mess. Frankly, the whole affair was a little embarrassing.

A Valentine's Post of a Different Stripe.

I have not posted much of late. Yes, I am aware. The reason? My literary efforts have lately been directed very specifically toward one particular area of my life, and, pages and pages later, I have concluded that language is insufficient, regardless of any skill I may usually have at wielding even unwieldy words. Even given the lexicon of three languages, no word that I can find carries the appropriate connotations. "Love", perhaps, was once created to describe this...whatever it is, but that word is used up, ground down and worn smooth from the trampling of many feet. Whatever you may call it, I am in it, drowning in it in fact. It is every bit as absurd, irrational, mysterious, and strange as it appears from the outside, but what you don't see is that is uncontrollable, beautiful, selfless, vital and alive. Oh, but how quickly this post falls into platitudes, as I refrain from saying that I feel incomplete without him, missing him as an amputee might miss a limb. Truly was Eve taken from Adam's rib, as I have found my home in his arms and at his side.

The veil is lifted and I see the world anew, the faded attempts of poets more skilled than I painted fresh and bright. Among these, I see the tattered words, "God is love". God loves me? All I've heard before takes on new meaning-God wants me at his side, to join his Church and be his Bride, to love me, not counting my faults, to know me and hear my voice? My God. I am so unworthy.

Beauty Tip

Never look at yourself in the mirror from less than two feet away. Anyone who wants to get closer than that probably already thinks you're beautiful.

Another pretentiously phrased post.

Behind the counter stood a girl not entirely present. Chewing on the blunt stub of her thumbnail, she stole a sentence at a time from the book discretely tucked between the registers. A lone sojourner emerged from the aisles laden with the spoils of their journeys amongst the florescent-lit jungles where trees hang low, branches bowed with the weight of pencils, sheet protectors, post its. The sudden movement caught the eye of the girl, who snapped back into the present, where she hurriedly tucked the book still further into the shadows and engaged an easy smile she kept near at hand for the benefit of those who came from the depths, bearing bar codes by the armload for her to liberate, transforming them from mere merchandise to items to use and own and eventually settle in to their places on a desk, shedding their soft glow of newness and becoming what they were along-a stapler, a printer, a paper clip. Grasping the laser gun, finger on the trigger, she smiled graciously as she stepped aside and let the robot, programmed through repetition, take charge of her hands and words, with strict instructions to wake her should she be needed. With that she retreated back into the fantastic realms of daydreams, and an instant later, the store faded into the background as new images rose out of the haze of reality to take its place.

Imagination of a Watermelon

1. Put your music on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.

1) IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
I Won't Stay Long

2) WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
I Crush Everything

3) WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Sure Shot

4) HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Ertöt' Uns Durch Dein' Güte, BWV 22

5) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE??
I Write Sins, Not Tragedies

6) WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Holy Is The Lord

7) WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Shuffle Your Feet

8) WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Track 8

9) WHAT IS 2+2?
Breakdown

10) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Man Of Constant Sorrow (Instrumental)

11) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Tom Cruise Crazy

12) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Health and Wealth

13) WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Devastation and Reform

14) WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Hallelujah

15) WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
When the World Ends

16) WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
I Belong to Ya (Midnight Mix)

17) WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Everybody Wants To Go To Heaven

18) WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Jury Duty

19) WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Nightingale

20) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Boomin'/Opera Trip

21) WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Always Look On the Bright Side Of Life

22) HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Adagio (off of my ballet barre music. That's a true one)

23) WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
Track 5

24) WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Gibberish

25) WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Louder Than the Mob

26) WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Perseverance of the Saints

27) WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Horrible Theme

28) DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Sadie Hawkins Dance

29) IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
A Conversation

30) WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Na Na

31) WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Imagination of a Watermelon

Yeah, Kerry tagged me with this thing, but I did it because it sounded fun, not because I'm a conformist who does whatever the internet tells me. And to prove it, I'm not going to tag anyone else. So there, internet. Take that.

Sneh

Tento týžden, snežilo okolo 6 centimetrov v Eugene. Ak nepamätáte, moje mesto je v doline a more nie je take dáleko, tak tu nemame veľa sneh. Skoli su zatvorene pretože nikto nevie šoferovať dobre na ľad. Moja výsoka škola je už na prestavku, tak teraz pracujem lebo potrabujem peniaze na knihi pre druhý poľrokny triedý. Minulý týžden, sme mali posledný písomky, a mislím že som písala celcom v pohode, ale úvidíme v piatok, ked moje známky prídu. Sa nebojim... teda, sa nebojim taký veľa.

No, tak, som to pisala po slovenský lebo rozmislím veľa o minúlom rokom. Asi, je to lebo sneži. Nemýslela som že budem to hovorit, ale chýbam slovensku, a som bola trošku nepríjemna od minulí január do okolo maj. Ak som mohla este raz robiť z nova, všekto budem robiť ine. Chcem hovoriť "prepačte" do všeci kto boli príjemne do mna a som nebola príjemna spät. Viem že moju slovenčinu je strasne teraz, ale dufam že rozumiete. Dakujem pre krásny rok.

For my non-Slovak speaking readers, I offer a recap:

• It's been snowing here.
• I'm on break.
• I'm working to pay for books for next term (although the only word i know for term is literally "half of year". I hope it still applies to a school that runs on quarters).
• Finals were last week, and I think I did okay, but we won't know for sure until Friday.
  
• I've been thinking about Slovakia a lot.
• I never thought I'd say it, but I miss Slovakia.
• I was not very pleasant from last January to around May.
• If I were to do it again, I'd do a lot of things differently.
• I'd like to apologize to everyone that was nice to me, but I wasn't nice back.
• My Slovak is terrible these days.
• Thank you for a great year.
  

Flashback- 26 October 2006

I am firmly of the opinion that girls are silly and somewhat boring. There's no explaining how their brains work. The obsession with boys is unfathomable to me, which might explain my total inability to flirt. I didn't even know I wasn't allowed to date until I was 16 until I was 16 and a half. Not that it matters. I'm not bitter about my eternal singleness, but I'm definitely bewildered by the concept. I don't know. I'd always kind of assumed one day something would happen in that area of my life, but it resoundingly hasn't. It's still better to be single forever than do something stupid, which I think is blindingly obvious, but apparently, most girls don't know that. I don't get it. Girls are silly. Oh wait...

Cliche

My most recent deep thought: Sometimes, being fearless doesn't mean being willing to be different. Sometimes, it means rushing headlong into the face of cliche and embracing the fact that you, like so many before you, have found something alive and wonderful beneath the worn-out surface. While this is all amazing and true when applied to God and Christianity and all that awesome stuff, on a more personal note, sitting on the couch watching Star Wars with JT's arm around my shoulder and my hand in his was more real and more fantastic than Hollywood would have ever lead me to believe. Let's see if I'm brave enough to put that sentance up on my blog for the world to see.


I think I am.

The Breakup

Dear Jim,

I'm sorry, but I've fallen for someone else. Someone less imaginary. We've had some great times, and I hope we can still be friends.

Sincerely,
Aubrianne

For Kerry

On 13th and University

Thick black Bible in hand, he stood in the middle of the crowd and shouted. Students bustled by, some on skateboards, some on bicycles, others weaving between their wheeled fellows in an intricate dance that always seemed to border on a collision. No one looked at the man with the Bible, even as he thundered about the remission of sins that Christ had provided for all of their sorry souls in words painfully familiar, words that had lost their unearthly glow from overuse. Never mind that no one was listening, never mind that not even those who agreed with his theology would stop to talk shop, he would stay and shout (or, as he likely thought of it, proclaim) the truth unto the sinful masses until his lungs gave out or Christ returned, whichever came first. This man was ministering.

The sign read "Free Hugs". Scrawled in thick black marker, it leaned against the hug-giver's leg, as his arms were too busy following up on his offer. As students rushed by on their way to class, they took a moment to receive a quick squeeze from the easy-smiling stranger. Never mind that he didn't claim to represent anything save a simple affirmation and a grin, never mind that he likely had little in common with those he hugged save a momentary intersection in place and a time, this man was sharing love unconditionally, one sinful soul at a time. This man was ministering.

That's so sketch

My frumjuous sister. I guess I should have waited for her birthday or something before l put this up, huh?

Adventures in College

"Hey, Jude," I sang. I wasn't singing for anyone's benefit, really. As a matter of fact, I rather hoped no one came into the bathroom for the next 20 minutes or so, as I had turned the Beatles up really, really loud to compensate for the sound of the shower in which I was immersed. It occurred to me mid-soak that most people for whom the shaving of shins is an issue do not, I'd imagine, bring the shin in question up so near their face as I, even when the narrowness of the shower does not allow any other obvious means of keeping the carefully cultivated suds out of the spray's reach. How the other 40 or so girls manage to keep their shins smooth is beyond me.

To recap: me = very flexible.

"Bože môj," I muttered, further obscuring my vision in the process. "Nič nevidím." Stopped at a red light, I opened the clear plastic front of my helmet to let some of the cold night air lap away at the fog my breath had formed on the surface. Added to the light sprinkle of raindrops, visibility was poor, to say the least. The light turned green and I twisted the throttle. Better to take the risk of something flying into my eye than risk flying blind.

To recap: Vera = freaking awesome anyway.

"Ch," I said to myself. "Ch. Tsh. Tshill. Chill." Poring over my linguistics textbook, I was taking a valiant stab at internalizing a chart of consonant sounds, my tongue (in close cooperation with my alveo-palatal ridge, apparantly) playing a vital roll in the struggle between me and the densely insightful page 81, as peppered, to switch metaphors, with indecipherable symbols as (switching again) a fruitcake is with not-terribly-fruitlike fruit, like raisins or something.

To recap: IPA = raisins.

A Sequence of Unrelated Thoughts

This is the fifth opening sentence with which I have attempted to prime the pump of words. As I have nothing better with which to begin, I will allow it to stand.

Work is fine. I finished reading an excellent book (Language in Thought and Action by S.I. Hayakawa, in case any of you want to look it up). My room is unbearably disorderly. My new students, all 15 of them, promise to be a great group. I went out and bought an exfoliater for my face skin the other day. I move in to Trinity House in roughly a week. I don't have any idea what I'm going to do for my recital piece. Office Max finally got me two girl-sized polos so I don't have to wear that mens' medium one pinned in at the back anymore. Mom took me shopping for my new room and spent an absurd amount of money on me. I seem to have snuffed my closest friendship into embers. I lost Jim's pen somewhere in my room. I have to clean the whole house tomorrow. I have three social emails to which I have yet to respond. I worked for ten hours today. Some people apparantly consider me to be a good writer, but then I put out a post like this every so often just to prove them wrong. I want cake. I am going to listen to Chopin and eat some chocolate stare at the ceiling until I fall asleep now.

Retail Therapy

A Conversation. February.


Haley from Florida: Hey, how are you doing?
Depressed Aubrianne: Well, um... I guess I'm alright.

...

Haley: This is the part where you are supposed to ask me how I'm doing.
Aubrianne: Oh. Um... so... how are you doing?
Haley: Fine.


Another Conversation. Still in February.


Haley from Florida: Hi! What's up?
Aubrianne: Not a lot.
Haley from Florida: How are you doing?
Aubrianne: I'm fine.
(a beat. Haley gestures in such a manner as to indicate that I should continue)
Aubrianne: How are you?


A Third, More Recent Conversation


Aubrianne wearing a nametag: Hello.
Random OfficeMax Customer: Hi.
Aubrianne wearing a nametag: How are you doing today?

Look what I drew!

Ok, so I sorta traced, with Jim's help, one of Tanner and my baby pictures, circa 1995. (Tanner's and mine? Little grammatical help?) Whatever. It looks cool and styley and artsome; Junoesque, l'd like to think, but that is praise too high to give oneself. Shoutouts to Jeff and his fellow Harris family peeps for the sweet softwares! Let me know what you think, but only if what you think is that it's good.

What's what

Just a quickly quickly update on my life for anyone who might be interested. First off, this week will see me teaching a more advanced class that ever I've taught before. I'm maybe a little worried, mostly because my students for the week have been my classmates in the past. More excitingly, I just got a call from Office Supply Store saying that they want me to work for them, so as soon as I come in and pass the criminal background check and the drug screening, I will be a bona fide member of the work force. Technically, I've been employed since I was 14, but it was all dance teaching, which, despite paying $15 an hour now that I'm all experienced and grown up, was a) too much fun to feel like work and b) only a couple hours a week. So this is my first for real job. I figure I've spent enough money on pencils and notebooks over the years that I might as well start getting some of that back. School starts at the end of September, at which time I move in to Trinity house and start sharing a room half the size of my current room with a stranger from Corvallis. That's about all I can think of just now.

Jim

Jim and l are very happy together.

Whether he is named after my imaginary boyfriend Jim or else is said boyfriend, I leave for you to decide for yourself, dear readers. Take into consideration, however, that Jim is my new tablet-style laptop.

Also, this is my hundred and first post. I've been at this for a while now.

l am currently getting ready for fall, applying for a job at Office Max hawking notepads and pencils and the like to pay for Jim and my expensive (despite the scholarship) education and trying to get my schedule in order in time to register for classes in the morning. Adultish-hood is not all fun and games, it seems.

l am very much looking forward to fall. lt's strange, but Jim, via his handwriting recognition software, made it known that he feels the previous sentence could be better phrased," l am very much looking forward total!"

Oh, Jim. You crack me up.

These days

For those of you hasslin' me about this nigh-on-a-month-long hiatus, I offer you a) my sincerest appologies and b) the following excuses: I am crazy busy just now. I have been taking this Tchaikovsky dance camp with good ol' JKD, so that fills up my life from 9:30 to 1:00, after which I take a bus or otherwise get myself to the U of O for this amazing Linguistics class about different varieties of English. So that takes us up through about 5 pm, after which I have to get all the homeworks in order and fit in all the screwing around and goofing off I couldn't do earlier. Besides, now we have a pool and a hot tub, so that takes time, too. Oh, and these days I have friends with whom I actually hang out, which is new and exciting for little old homebody me. In case that's not enough reason, consider that now I'm back, I can't rely on being exotic and foreign to buy me readers. These days, I actually have to come up with some content.

To some slight degree, I feel bad about being so happy with my life back home. After all, the long gray winter can never compare to the living green of summer, and foreign lands can never hold the same place in my heart as home. Home! How I dwelt on the word until it seemed to have a meaning beyond what any dictionary would tell you.

All that is to say, Rotary, you were totally wrong about "reentry" being a challenge. How much of this is my fault for not making Slovakia a kind of home? If I'd been a better exchange student, might I miss Slovakia? I do miss some of my friends (not Slovaks so much as Americans and moja mila Australcanka), but frankly, I'm having too good a time being back here to devote much thought to it. Sorry, guys. As good an experience this year was, I didn't engage and, as a result, I didn't really get much out of it. I am glad it's over, but simultaneously guilty for being glad, if that makes any sense. I spent all year whining about it, which probably didn't help me get past it.

Answer me one thing, though; I made it through the whole year, thus qualifying my time as a "successful" exchange. How can it be successful if I personally failed so miserably?

Anyway, to bring it back around, my life is friggin' sweet these days, with kind of the vibe of a mellow acoustic guitar accompanied melody in D major being played under a tree in the park while passing around a jar of lemonade on a pleasantly warm day in mid-July. Close your eyes and picture it. There. Just thought I'd bring that back up here at the end and end this puppy on an "up" kind of note.

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgment #1: It has been a long time since my last blog post
Acknowledgment #2: I ought to have posted something here at least saying I made it home.


...

I'm home!