Frozen at Intersection

IwillariseandpraiseJESUS for the passover of the storm, the sparing of our home, and my senior year.

Now "I willa" just have to "arise" to actually finish what I've started, namely, my senior year.

Hmmm, let's see. I'm a bit distracted by my sister singing her own version of the Sound of Music's "Doe a Deer" song, translated to fit her geometry lesson.

Now is a time to scratch things out and start anew. New approach to college essays, new off-the-wall "burning question" topic that won't have me drooling over my keyboard as I research, new way to avoid stress (aka, not eating bowls of cereal after dinner in order to postpone concentrating on the abstract mountains of work ahead of me). I suppose blogging will become my bowl of Pops and peanut butter Puffins. Or, as my mom suggested, a mile on the treadmill might do the trick. But how I adore the convenience of a sedentary lifestyle!

The most current goal of my life is to find that creative research paper topic. There are no limits, except to argue in light and respect of the Catholic Social Teachings followed by my Catholic, Blue Ribbon school of excellence and brainwashed females. I don't tend to hoist the anarchy against my religion anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem.

Architecture, design, Columbia, quirky homes, graphic artists' escapades, Seven Centuries of Verse, 91.5 FM courtesy of Tulane...
these are the quirks of my mind, to what argument do they beg?

Please, inform me, mass unknown that is the random internet procrastinator, treasure hunter, pedophile, human viewer: WHAT SHOULD I WRITE SIX PAGES OF WORDS ON WITHOUT BORRING MYSELF TO DAISIES?

You thought I was going to say death.

Lovely Lane to Nowhere

Just stop me for a moment as I gape at the hurricane's potential landfall and its margin of error.
Remind me again what tomorrow is.
The 29th of August, really? The third anniversary of Katrina?
Really.

How ironic that we need strip our walls of its paintings, hoard our pictures in shoeboxes, pack our lives away...

How ironic that I indulge in freshly-baked, homemade chocolate chip cookies and the lickings of a chocolate cake batter along the bowl and the whisks.

Normality is procrastination. Yes, I'll construct myself a little transparent box of normality through the procrastination of my graphic organizer analysis of Kennedy's speech and my thirty two problems of Calculus homework.

No, I won't forget Regina Spektor's "Loveology," or Coldplay's "Warning Sign."

Hurricane Gustav Survival Kit:
-Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger
-U.S. History AP binder, to begin studying for SAT II
-iPod (stocked with Tegan and Sara, Coldplay, Voxtrot, The Shins, M.I.A., and the first episode of Hey! Arnold)
-Seasons 1-3 of The Office
-Nintendo 64 Game Console and Diddy Kong Racing, Mario Kart, Zelda Oricana of Time
-shoebox of sentimentalities
-copies of college application essay questions
-journals/sketch diaries/empty papers and full pens

I'm Sorry, Mr. Apollo 13 Calculus AP-happy-teacher, neither of my Calculus textbooks will make it to the packed-to-the-brim car. My stomach full of baked goods occupies much of the space, and my clashing, swirling thoughts fight for every other cubic millileter of air within the vehichle.

Send me where you may, Lord, that my dreams never die.