Yes, I Really Hate Coffee

Do you ever think, “only me?” When something crazy and insane happens, and you’re just like, does this kind of thing happen to anyone else on the planet? I supposed this night has been a consequence of my procrastinating nature, or maybe because I compromised, you can be the judge.

Let me start by saying I HATE COFFEE! Passionately. I don’t drink it for many reasons. 1: It’s addictive and people depend on it. They get head aches if they don’t drink it, they go crazy, they can’t function. I get up just fine in the morning. Whey should I start? I want to depend solely on God. 2: It’s terrible for you. 3: It tastes SOOOOOO bad! 4: It stunts your growth and I’m already short. And 5: I just don’t like it!

I have a history exam tomorrow, which I of course, like always, procrastinated like crazy for studying. I was going to do it this afternoon before work, but left my book at home, so came back after work, had dinner, and started. It was 11pm when I was finally ready to study, and knowing that I wasn’t going to sleep much, when last night I slept only 4 hours, and have been up since 6:30 am, been through church and work, thinking I really probably am not going to make it, I decided to make a cup of coffee. Why not? Maybe it would work.

Let me show you just how foreign coffee is to me. It took me 10 MINUTES to figure out to work the stinkin machine, including how to grind the beans, where to pour the water, how to turn it on, if the lid goes on or off the pot while the coffee’s brewing, and I was feeling SO convicted about even making the dang cup. Then to top it all off, when I finally got it going, the thing went crazy, and not just coffee, but the grains of the beans are spilling out ALL OVER MY COUNTER and on to the floor, and I CAN’T figure out how to make it stop. So I pull out the pot and hold my cup under the filter, (speaking of filter, my cup was FULL of coffee beans with some coffee, not the other way around,) I then put the lid on the pot and tried that and it seemed to make things better untill I lifted the whole machine while it was still going to clean the spilt coffee off the bottom, which resulted in disaster as the hot brew washed over my hand and wrist and oh yeah, coffee’s hot!

After a long struggle, I finally have what looks like a large, decent cup off coffee. I taste and gag of course, so I add A LOT of milk and A LOT of sugar, and guzzle it down, that is after I spilt a bunch of it on my foot, because I think the coffee just didn’t seem to want to stay anywhere tonight.

I finish this REALLY LARGE CUP and go to do my homework. I'm feeling awake. Mission accomplished! I pull out my book, my notes, my pen and some paper. I’m ready! I’m going to be up for hours. I look up the first topic I need to read, and open the book to the Table of Contents, and instead of finding the Chapter Title: Our People, I find; Chapter Title: Reconstruction of the US. Now to you that might not mean anything, but to me it means last semester's history class. They sold me the WRONG BOOK! So, not only do I not get to study and not take the test tomorrow, and beg my teacher for an extension to study, I just drank a WHOLE STINKIN CUP OF COFFEE and now I’m WIDE AWAKE which is the only reason I’m writing this post at 12:30 in the MORNING!!!!

Like I said, only me.

The Desultory Ramblings of a Nomadic Mind

Deanna and I took a little road trip to Long beach for a couple days this past week, and in the duration of that time we began discussing a site she had found that gives condensed versions of cliff notes. For example;

Tuck Everlasting:

Winnie: I love you, I’d do anything for you.
Jesse Tuck: Drink the water.
Winnie: No.

The End!

Fabulous, no? So, we were reminiscing about the book, Are You My Mother? and Deanna comes up with her own title and story, which we believe would be quite a best seller in the Church. Are You My Husband? This of course resulted in a long fit of giggles, and when we had finally composed ourselves, we commenced brainstorming the book. Page after page the main character would meet a variety of odd characters such as a troll or clown and ask, “are you my husband?” in which you’d pull up a little flap and the Holy Spirit would pop out and reply, “no.” This scenario would be repeated until the last page where you’d find a handsome prince, which of course could finally give the answer she was seeking. “Are you my husband?” “Yes.”

This is a conversation in which I seem to be having frequently. Not me asking male after male, “are you my husband?” because that would just be weird, but in general, “The Husband Conversation.” Of course I realize it’s not time, I’m not ready, but Joy and I had a great conversation that has led me to a simple conclusion on the subject; In a world where we are Elizabeth, (symbolically), there are three types of men in our lives. Darcy’s, Wickham’s and Colin’s.

There are the Colin’s of this world, which is pretty obvious, just flat out wrong for us. Even if they admit the “violence of their affections,” you should NEVER, NEVER fall for a Mr. Colin’s. Somewhere in the world, Mr. Colin’s is a Darcy to some woman, but PLEASE don’t try to be her. He’s a total nerd, (and he totally smells.) I could go on and discuss the warning signs of such a man, but I don’t want to offend.

The Wickham’s of this world are a little bit tougher. They’re usually handsome, intelligent, almost what we’ve prayed for. Perhaps Elizabeth and Wickham would have been happy, (if he hadn’t been such a jerk) but it wouldn’t have been great. It wouldn’t have been “God’s Best.” Almost all of us have been guilty at one point or another of convincing ourselves that “Mr. Wickham” has great potential of filling Mr. Darcy’s shoes, or that “God has spoken, and yes, yes, he is my Mr. Darcy!” In such cases, the best remedy, I have found, is to ask the one who knows you most what she thinks. She will of course reply, “He will make you miserable, and you will make him miserable.” It is a great reality pill. Remember, we are talking about the rest of your life. Mr. Wickham, cute as he his, just doesn’t make the cut.

Then of course there’s Mr. Darcy, (and that must be said with a longingly and dramatic sigh). Mr. Darcy… Mr. Perfect, Mr. Right, Mr. I’m going to marry him? I don’t think so! Of course it took three hours for Elizabeth to realize how much she loved him, as has been the case in most love stories I’ve heard.

“It took me 3 years to notice him.”
“I liked someone else and didn’t give him a second thought. then one day God changed my heart, and all of the sudden he was Clark Gable!”
“Ewww, he’s gross! Hey he‘s kind of cute!”

Mr. Right, though sometimes we are lucky to like right away, (*cough* Selah and Jeremy *cough*) Mr. Right seems to be in disguise. Now I know I am a woman of little to no experience in the areas of love, but I am observant, and this is what I see around me in many, many love stories. I like the picture being asleep, and when the time comes to notice Mr. Darcy, we wake up! Perfect example, sleeping beauty, and when the handsome prince shows up, bam! She’s up! (Of course don’t let him kiss you right then, because he probably hasn’t talked to your parents yet;) The bottom line is, Mr. Darcy was absolute perfect for Elizabeth. He was her match in intensity, wisdom, passion. They both were “nonsensical” “stubborn” and “blind”. Coincidence? I think not!

So, moral of the story? WAIT WAIT WAIT for Mr. Darcy!!! (But you all already know this of course. Like I said, “ramblings.”)

On a new subject, congratulations interns!!!! This year is going to be amazing and I look forward to seeing each of you grow!

~The End~

Rapture Video

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