I'm all moved out. Settled into my new room, with a new roommate and actually loving the college life. Its fun. Great new friends, Fun classes, opportunities popping up every chance I get to meet new people. I have already been asked for my phone number 17 different times, and although I decline most, a few lucky guys make the list. I dont have class friday at all, which is great, if i can find something to do. It'll probably end up being homework... or not. I open a book and the first line says "This book attempts to provide a short history of everybody for the last 13,000 years"
All I can think of is " Dear Sweet JEsus, SAVE ME NOW!!!" why would any one write a book like that? Torture? Insanity? I haven't a clue. But its nerve wracking. I've met 4 people from ACADECA here so far at ISU tho, so I have people to relate to.
but STILL! That book is REDONKULOUS!!!
Its all another page in this book we call life.And I am not the one writing it out. We know who really is.
Peace, love and chocolate~
MallieLynn
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Famous Amos No More
Its really sad when you lose a pet. A goldfish or a bird, no big deal. But when it is an animal that you love with all your heart and soul, and that animal gets crushed by a drunk high school student on their way back from the beach at 5:00 in the AM, you can't help but be angry, and want to hurt that person the same way they hurt you.
Amos wasn't just a cat. He was a friend. A companion. His fluff was comforting when I couldn't handle it anymore. And now he is gone. He debuted in Curtains, as the lovable Ophelia. That should have been the start, but curtains rise and they fall, and before he could get another gig, catastrophe struck.
There will never be another cat alive that had the temperament that Amos had. It takes patience to sit under a stage in a PetTaxi for an hour and a half without making a sound. And then to be picked up by a total stranger, with a room full of people, and not freak out. I know I would have.
His shedding was a minor negative, but you could not not love that orange fluff ball. It was impossible to ignore that cat walking 5 feet in front of you and plop down, it was like he was saying "Scratch my belly!" You just couldn't say no.
What hurts even more is being gone when it happens. I was at Survivor Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I didn't find out until after I got home. I was already tired, I stunk, was a little irate at the boy who I invited to this camp that barely said 10 words to me the entire weekend. Put the death of my favorite animal on top of that, and I was about ready to explode, A-Bomb style.
Sad stories make me cry. Its another chapter to add to the story that we call life.
Amos wasn't just a cat. He was a friend. A companion. His fluff was comforting when I couldn't handle it anymore. And now he is gone. He debuted in Curtains, as the lovable Ophelia. That should have been the start, but curtains rise and they fall, and before he could get another gig, catastrophe struck.
There will never be another cat alive that had the temperament that Amos had. It takes patience to sit under a stage in a PetTaxi for an hour and a half without making a sound. And then to be picked up by a total stranger, with a room full of people, and not freak out. I know I would have.
His shedding was a minor negative, but you could not not love that orange fluff ball. It was impossible to ignore that cat walking 5 feet in front of you and plop down, it was like he was saying "Scratch my belly!" You just couldn't say no.
What hurts even more is being gone when it happens. I was at Survivor Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I didn't find out until after I got home. I was already tired, I stunk, was a little irate at the boy who I invited to this camp that barely said 10 words to me the entire weekend. Put the death of my favorite animal on top of that, and I was about ready to explode, A-Bomb style.
Sad stories make me cry. Its another chapter to add to the story that we call life.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Down the Snake
Down the Snake
By Mallory Wheeler
Yellow, blue, and grey commercial rafts line up along the entrance port. Those of us waiting scavenge for flat rocks, hoping to skip one lucky pebble to that far and unknown side.
I am handed a paddle. Once again, I am in the front for a third year. I find the most excitement here. I am first to see the water drop away from around the raft, first to feel the splash of the wave as it breaks around the raft. The lead sets the pace, those in the front control the rhythm of the raft. Teamwork is crucial. Our guide tells us, even if the rapid is huge, and you just want to cling to the person next to you, you must paddle through the entire rapid. It could save your life. Paddling through that churning water acts like a third leg on a tripod, bracing you against the river, and keeping you inside the raft.
We push away from the shore. Anticipation overcomes me. Though this is the fourth year that I have been on this trip, it has never been the same. Last year, it was the highest I have ever seen it. The level of the river affects the ferocity of the rapids. When the water is high, Big Kahuna is a huge rapid, full of dips and holes, and blind corners, sending out a challenge to anyone willing to test their abilities. When it is low, Big Kahuna mellows out a little bit, and Lunch Counter comes to life.
We come to the Dire Straits, a calm shallow part of the river. Our guide tells us not to be misled. While the river is calm here, a monster rages ahead. Still he gives us the ok, and I back flip into the river, my personal flotation device trying to get my right side up before I introduce my head to a rock. I resurface. This is a water baptism, acknowledging to the river gods that I understand that they are in control.
Since I was little, getting wet has been a gift. The hot sun of mid day beating down from above, making me sweat to death; never wanting to go back indoors because of the endless beauty. There was only one solution, and that was water. Swimming, running through the sprinklers, or just taking one five gallon bucket filled to the brim, and throwing it over your head, it took care of the heat, if only for a little while, and if I dried off, it was a simple repeat. As others from both my raft and neighboring rafts jump in, water fights begin. I want to share my love of water with everyone, and seeing as we were already in the river, why not?
I dunk one of my best friends, freshly back from Germany. As she sputters back to the surface, sputtering words foreign to me. I won’t repeat them in English. The water fight continues, and unknowingly, I get further and further ahead of my raft. I don’t realize how far away I have gotten until I hear the call of the river guide’s voice, “you need to get back here. We’re approaching rapids.”
I am ahead of the raft, so I have two choices: let the boat catch up to me, and risk going through the rapids by myself, or swim against the current, and make it back to the safety of that inflated piece of rubber. I chose number two.
I make it back to the raft, and they pull me in about 300 yards before we hit the big one. That is, the Big Kahuna. Certain times of the year, you can actually see people surfing on the Snake River if this rapid is big enough.
We get closer. We decide which song we want to sing as we go over the rapid. We all agree on an old camp fire song, Miss O’Leary.
The harsh cry of “All forward!” rings from the back of the boat, where our guide is steering us toward the underwater waterfall that is the Big Kahuna. I see the water drop out from around the raft. I can’t see anything but white mist and water everywhere. I hear a startled scream, and realize that it escaped from my own lips. Dropping into the deep hole, we start singing.
One dark night
When we were all in bed
Miss O’Leary left
A lantern in the shed.
The cow kicked it over,
Winked her eye and said,
Its gonna be a hot time
In the old town
Tonight.
FIRE FIRE FIRE
WATER WATER WATER!
JUMP LADY JUMP!
EEEOOOOWWW BOOOING!
We yelled WATER WATER WATER at the top of our lungs, but could barely hear each other. A surge blasted up out of the abyss, knocked me backwards, and almost out of the raft. The only thing holding me in, were the people next to me and behind me, holding onto my foot and the back of my life vest. Water, water every where, trying to dump me in the drink.
Talk about perfect
Written at Writers@Harriman
By Mallory Wheeler
Yellow, blue, and grey commercial rafts line up along the entrance port. Those of us waiting scavenge for flat rocks, hoping to skip one lucky pebble to that far and unknown side.
I am handed a paddle. Once again, I am in the front for a third year. I find the most excitement here. I am first to see the water drop away from around the raft, first to feel the splash of the wave as it breaks around the raft. The lead sets the pace, those in the front control the rhythm of the raft. Teamwork is crucial. Our guide tells us, even if the rapid is huge, and you just want to cling to the person next to you, you must paddle through the entire rapid. It could save your life. Paddling through that churning water acts like a third leg on a tripod, bracing you against the river, and keeping you inside the raft.
We push away from the shore. Anticipation overcomes me. Though this is the fourth year that I have been on this trip, it has never been the same. Last year, it was the highest I have ever seen it. The level of the river affects the ferocity of the rapids. When the water is high, Big Kahuna is a huge rapid, full of dips and holes, and blind corners, sending out a challenge to anyone willing to test their abilities. When it is low, Big Kahuna mellows out a little bit, and Lunch Counter comes to life.
We come to the Dire Straits, a calm shallow part of the river. Our guide tells us not to be misled. While the river is calm here, a monster rages ahead. Still he gives us the ok, and I back flip into the river, my personal flotation device trying to get my right side up before I introduce my head to a rock. I resurface. This is a water baptism, acknowledging to the river gods that I understand that they are in control.
Since I was little, getting wet has been a gift. The hot sun of mid day beating down from above, making me sweat to death; never wanting to go back indoors because of the endless beauty. There was only one solution, and that was water. Swimming, running through the sprinklers, or just taking one five gallon bucket filled to the brim, and throwing it over your head, it took care of the heat, if only for a little while, and if I dried off, it was a simple repeat. As others from both my raft and neighboring rafts jump in, water fights begin. I want to share my love of water with everyone, and seeing as we were already in the river, why not?
I dunk one of my best friends, freshly back from Germany. As she sputters back to the surface, sputtering words foreign to me. I won’t repeat them in English. The water fight continues, and unknowingly, I get further and further ahead of my raft. I don’t realize how far away I have gotten until I hear the call of the river guide’s voice, “you need to get back here. We’re approaching rapids.”
I am ahead of the raft, so I have two choices: let the boat catch up to me, and risk going through the rapids by myself, or swim against the current, and make it back to the safety of that inflated piece of rubber. I chose number two.
I make it back to the raft, and they pull me in about 300 yards before we hit the big one. That is, the Big Kahuna. Certain times of the year, you can actually see people surfing on the Snake River if this rapid is big enough.
We get closer. We decide which song we want to sing as we go over the rapid. We all agree on an old camp fire song, Miss O’Leary.
The harsh cry of “All forward!” rings from the back of the boat, where our guide is steering us toward the underwater waterfall that is the Big Kahuna. I see the water drop out from around the raft. I can’t see anything but white mist and water everywhere. I hear a startled scream, and realize that it escaped from my own lips. Dropping into the deep hole, we start singing.
One dark night
When we were all in bed
Miss O’Leary left
A lantern in the shed.
The cow kicked it over,
Winked her eye and said,
Its gonna be a hot time
In the old town
Tonight.
FIRE FIRE FIRE
WATER WATER WATER!
JUMP LADY JUMP!
EEEOOOOWWW BOOOING!
We yelled WATER WATER WATER at the top of our lungs, but could barely hear each other. A surge blasted up out of the abyss, knocked me backwards, and almost out of the raft. The only thing holding me in, were the people next to me and behind me, holding onto my foot and the back of my life vest. Water, water every where, trying to dump me in the drink.
Talk about perfect
Written at Writers@Harriman
That Jacket
That Jacket
By Mallory Wheeler
I pull my old green jacket out of the closet once again. another year at camp is approaching/ I am overcome by the familiar smell of burning pine. The scent of smoke coming form the campfires of years past liger on this jacket. I hold it close, and take in as much of the scent in one breath as I can.
I hold it away to look at it. When it was new, a dark forest green, and a little big, I was sure I would never wear it. It looked like something straight out of a war movie, with its many pockets.
But I took it to camp that first year when I was eleven, and that ugly army green jacket became my camping teddy bear.
I look closer and see the small hole burnt into the left hand sleeve. Playing with fire. I see the tear down the right side, and remember falling down the logging trail last year, and tearing up my legs. I look at the inside of the jacket, and see how green it is compared to the outside, which has bee unbleached to a dull grey brown from the sun.
I slip it on now, a fairly tight fit compared to how big it used to be. The jacket hugs me, and holds me close. Once again, I am surrounded by that smell of campfire smoke.
Written at Writers@Harriman
By Mallory Wheeler
I pull my old green jacket out of the closet once again. another year at camp is approaching/ I am overcome by the familiar smell of burning pine. The scent of smoke coming form the campfires of years past liger on this jacket. I hold it close, and take in as much of the scent in one breath as I can.
I hold it away to look at it. When it was new, a dark forest green, and a little big, I was sure I would never wear it. It looked like something straight out of a war movie, with its many pockets.
But I took it to camp that first year when I was eleven, and that ugly army green jacket became my camping teddy bear.
I look closer and see the small hole burnt into the left hand sleeve. Playing with fire. I see the tear down the right side, and remember falling down the logging trail last year, and tearing up my legs. I look at the inside of the jacket, and see how green it is compared to the outside, which has bee unbleached to a dull grey brown from the sun.
I slip it on now, a fairly tight fit compared to how big it used to be. The jacket hugs me, and holds me close. Once again, I am surrounded by that smell of campfire smoke.
Written at Writers@Harriman
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Realizations
Im at a point in time. well everyone is. But this point in time is difficult, confusing, and scary. I leave for college in about a week. I don't feel like I'm old enough for college. I still feel like a scared little freshman in high school going through her awkward phase. Well, I guess I will be a freshman, I will be scared, and I might still be going through that awkward phase, but still. Does leaving for college mean that the childhood funtimes are a thing of the past? Don't answer that. I dont want you to answer that. I have to figure that one out on my own. I guess that I'm just afraid of the unkown, which I guess is just human nature. But i WONT run away.If im going to make it thrugh this thing we call life, I have to face forward, with my chin held high. I might be afraid, but I will not show it. Its a good thing I'm fairly decent at hiding the way I feel.
The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began,
Now far away the road has gone,
And I must follow,
If I can.
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet,
And whither then, I cannot say.
The Road, Lord of the Rings
Not sure which one.
I gotta just keep going on,
Face the monster,
It'll all be worth it in the end.
At least I hope it will be.
I'm leaving this in God's hands.He'll take me where I need to be.
From now on, I'm just a leaf, floating free.
The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began,
Now far away the road has gone,
And I must follow,
If I can.
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet,
And whither then, I cannot say.
The Road, Lord of the Rings
Not sure which one.
I gotta just keep going on,
Face the monster,
It'll all be worth it in the end.
At least I hope it will be.
I'm leaving this in God's hands.He'll take me where I need to be.
From now on, I'm just a leaf, floating free.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Home
How To Get Home
ShareBy Mallory Wheeler
If you come from the east or the west on the interstate,
Take the exit at American Falls.
If you come from Blackfoot, or north, follow the highway,
It will take you right through my hometown.
Those are really the only two ways to
reach my Aberdeen.
There is a crack in the sidewalk by the Mexican restaurant, where
My sister totaled my mother’s car on her way to church one Sunday.
There is an Icee shack in front of the grocery store. Delicious.
If you turn toward the west on main street,
You will see where I went to kindergarten, elementary, middle and high school. All lined up in one row.
If you turn east between that crack in the sidewalk, and Sinclair,
That is the road I have lived on my entire life.
Who would have known that moving only a mile down the road would change a young girl’s life?
There’s my home. The one I grew up in. there is a door on the second story, just suspended on the side of the house. And the memory of the balcony we never started.
More down the road. Out into the country side.
There’s the cemetery.
My grandparents, cousins, and some friends are there.
The canal, where I used to jump in on hot days,
The field right across from my house,
Where summer after my freshman year, two horrific car crashes changed my view on life forever.
One of those crashes involved a classmate. LifeFlight landed in my front yard,
And took him away. I still think that it is a miracle that he survived.
Now the pine trees that guard our house from the wind.
They hide their needles in the grass, and if you don’t have calloused feet, they WILL jump out and bite them
My lawn. There are probably not so wild turkeys eating the bugs.
Don’t worry. Only Turkzilla will chase you.
My driveway. Gravel. I don’t recommend bare feet.
The shed, where we keep the lawn mower, the gas, and other tools.
It used to be the original house. With one big room, and a loft. It is falling apart on the side facing the fields because of the constant irrigation.
The chicken shed.
The evil ones live there.
I was chased by a rooster when I was little, and they seem to think I make a good target.
At least we don’t have geese.
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