Hi there

It's been a while.

A little over two months, actually.

Okay, it's been fifty-eight days.

Not like I was counting or anything.

I've missed this. I've missed blogging and writing and getting my ideas expressed and out there. I mean, it's not like I've been twiddling my thumbs since I've been gone. Robotics has taken over my life. Mock Trial remains there. I've been tumbling and pinning and such. College apps have driven me up the wall, back down, and off my rocker. Suffice it to say, it's been a crazy couple of months.

But more so than any amount of stress or insanity, it's been the shame that has kept me from sitting down and blogging again. It's been having to look at the blogspot tab every time I open up my Opera browser, staring at me, telling me that I was obviously a failure of a blogger for not continuing on when things got rough.

So as I am sitting here on the train, headed back home from a college visit, with internet access, a laptop, and little else to do but avoid the awkward stare of the indie guy sitting at my four o'clock, I feel like there is not much that I could do that would be a better use of my time. Trust me, I ran the full gamut of self-entertainment. I read. I listened to music. (You should check out the updated musical stylings bar - this is a good one, guys.) I ate food. I attempted to be an awesome hipster and bust through a chunk of my novel. I gave up after four paragraphs. I was there for a friend in need. I pestered another friend with (I'm assuming) far more important things to do. But as I sit here with an hour and a half left on this train ride, I've decided that I'm going to blog, at least for today.

It's a start.

So here goes.



I AM ON THE TRAIN, GUYS.

YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW EXCITING THIS IS.

I'll admit, it was a bit sketch at first. I showed up at the station an hour early after what was easily one of the most frightening cab rides of my life, only to learn twenty minutes before the train was scheduled to leave that another train broke down and they would have to bus us to another station to catch the same train we were initially scheduled to take. The bus was easily one of the nicest charter buses I have ever been in. Being a 105 pound girl from the 'burbs, I was still quite confident my life was in immediate danger and that being kidnapped and sold to Lord Rahl himself was obviously in my future. I live a sheltered life.

I managed to get to the train, alive and un-kidnapped, and proceeded up the stairs (YEAH GUYS, THIS TRAIN HAS STAIRS - I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS FORM OF TRANSPORTATION) to the main seating. Every little area was occupied, and being the cripplingly shy individual I am, I continued (hauling my sleeping bag, laptop, duffel, and purse with me all the way) to the front car. I found a set of four seats that I claimed as Camp Kait and (after planting my flag and opening a bottle of bubbly), I sat down to have a lovely time on the train.

Then Indie Guy #1 appeared, sitting kiddy-corner from me. For the last two hours I have felt like he has been staring at my laptop screen, silently judging my writing, facebooking, and pinning. I gave up six Channing Tatum pins due to simple awkwardness from having this guy right over my shoulder. Here's to hoping his eyesight isn't good enough to read this as I'm typing it. Otherwise that could get awkwardddddd.

The train conductor is amazing. Well, I'm not really sure that he is the conductor. He checked my ticket once I had taken my seat and called me beautiful. Which is either creepy because he's like 40 or awkwardly patronizing because I'm 17. I yet to decide. The reason I think he is the conductor is that he has a conductor hat. Like a hard-core parkour 19th century train conductor hat. I might marry him. Except he's old. And possibly creepy or patronizing. Jury is still out.

This lady just came and took one of the seats in Camp Kait. I think I should start taxing her. First, for entering Camp Kait without a visa. Second, for being mean to the creepy-and-or-patronizing conductor. Third, for being a cotton-headed ninnymuggins.

Oh my gracious, Indie Boy just got off the train. I am so tempted to go take his seat. But his seat is like a quarter the size of Camp Kait. And I would have to move my flag. Such an inconvenience.

Hold. The. Phone. The fo-realz conductor just said "all aboard!"

I have a new favorite mode of transportation.

My knees hurt

I can't do any more tonight, guys. Sorry.

The L Word

There is a new addition to the list of dirty words in my book. It's the L word. You don't know it?

Liability.

I hate hearing this word.

Growing up the daughter of a worker's comp attorney, I have been exposed to this word for as long as I can remember. It has basically been ingrained in my skull, and I know that it has purpose and value and everything. Trust me, I get it, I really do.

But it drives me crazy when people say that you aren't allowed to do something because of liability. It's like they are saying, "Hey, I really don't care if you live or die, but I might be liable, soooooooo....you're not allowed to."

#lawyersdaughterproblems

Drowning in integrals.

It's less attractive than it sounds.

I'm considering taking a blogging hiatus.

I just seem to have lost motivation. The one person who actually pretended to care about this whole venture is gone, and I'm not going back down that road. I have a lot of stuff to do. I'm out of inspiration, and doing this just seems hard when I'm not even proud of what I put out every day. These are becoming more extended facebook statuses than actual writings.

I don't know.

I'm just afraid that if I stop I'll never start back up again. I don't want to give this up but -- right now it's just hard.