I just got a call from the school that I've been not feeling good about for the last week and a half. It was a man this time, for the first time. I was so relieved. When I explained that I just didn't have the time, he understood. No pressure. Dudes are so much more easy to work with than chicks.

In other news (since I'm posting, and I don't want to go back outside yet) I've been tinkering with my mandolin again. I think my memory works in such a way that if I cram for a couple weeks then leave whatever I'm trying to remember alone for a few months, I remember it better than immediately after cramming. Like my brain has time to re-wire itself. Maybe it means I'm not getting enough sleep, since dreams are supposed to be the brain working through the memories and events of the day... Anyway, I could actually recognize my playing as a song, and not a series of sounds... played... at... long... intervals... It might be even more helpful if I knew the song before I started, so I could get the rhythm right. Meh.

Snow day!

Women are trouble.

I say that half-jokingly, but I'm half serious. I was filling out FastWeb information the other day (it's a scholarship-search service) and apparently they passed my phone number along to an online school. Apparently, because I received a phone call from a lady at the International Academy of Design and Technology, or something like that. I must not have been thoroughly aware of what was happening, because the next thing I know I'm "officially enrolled" in the school, and the only step I had to take to begin classes (on the twelfth of February!) was to fill out my FAFSA (Pretty much all financial aid—including most scholarships—requires that). Well, that's not a big problem for me, I have to fill out the FAFSA anyway, unless I'm paying cash from my pocket. And I can't afford that for a Bachelor's degree, not right now.

After I fill out the FAFSA, I figure out that the school isn't running on a semester-by-semester plan, more of a month-by-month plan. Which translates to several times the cost that I was expecting. I'll be honest, I was probably foolish to think that a B.A. would only cost 12 grand, but SEVENTY!?! No. I can't afford that, and I won't take out the loan that they're pressuring me to. I'd rather work with my hands and be relatively free.

Unfortunately, I had already allowed myself to be pressured into paying the application fee—I should have realized that a school that tries to get you to commit within hours isn't a school worth pursuing, but I didn't. Fortunately, in the Application Agreement, (which the lady didn't want me to read, but I did anyway. Thank God!) I agreed to a 72 hour period during which everything would be refunded, including the application fee—a fact which I shall have to dig up and have in front of me when I call back tomorrow.

Which brings me to reason that I'm posting this: I have to call the school and confront (ugh!) a lady (ugh!). I hate doing that. I don't want to. I'd rather just "disappear", let them keep the application fee and refuse to talk to them. But that's not what's good, I don't think. I need to make it clear that I'm not interested, at least not at this time. And it feels like I'm disemboweling myself just thinking about it. My stomach hurts from the emotions that I'm dealing with. I'm such a wuss when it comes to this kind of stuff. Bleh.

Anyway, if you guys would remember me in prayer, that I grow a bit of a spine and learn to say "no" to sales-women—also salesmen, but that's not quite as much a problem—I'd appreciate it.

I love you guys.

The speaker at church today is Toby, not the normal pastor. Normally, this wouldn't thrill me—Toby speaks to businesspeople using their jargon, and so it takes a double-translation for me to accept anything that he says, and I'm lazy—but today I'm pretty excited. Before service began, Toby trotted up stairs to the Crow's Nest with a jump drive. He has only one picture that he wants to show during the sermon, which makes it easy for me; more importantly, though, is the fact that it's an early picture of the guys at Microsoft. Let's see if I can get this uploaded...

Ah, yes. There it is. Now that's a reason to get excited about a sermon.

Oh, my. I just read my last post (made late at night when I thought my cat died) and I realised just how muddled I get when I'm mostly asleep. Woah.

I think I'm getting ready to move... Into an Airstream Travel Trailer. IKE's been trying to get rid of it for awhile now, and it's a step up from my current living situation. Which isn't saying much, but every little bit counts. I've been spending my odd moments fixing the electrical systems, which have brittle wires and broken switches throughout. It's been coming together nicely, though. Nothing to complain about. I also need to get the blackwater tank fixed, and probably the outhouse. And I need to be looking at some sort of vehicle to move the trailer with—maybe a pair of oxen, but more likely some sort of truck.

In short, I'm excited to see where I will be in this chapter. Maybe I'll go to Brazil by mule train. Ooh! That's an even better idea than the pair of oxen! I should totally hook up a mule train to the Airstream!

Score:

Lower brain function: 1
Sleep: 0

So a little while ago my lower brain woke me up with the urgent news that my baby needed me. Something (which sounded remarkably like a baby crying) needed me very desperately, and Mister Reticular Formation sitting at the bottom of my brain suddenly went wonky.

After hearing the Scary Noises or seeing the Scary Things before going to bed, I assumed immediately that my cat was wounded and dying on my front lawn with her kittens surrounding her, mourning her with the cat's version of a dirge. And no, that's not just me being morbid. It's happened before. (Except that there was no dirge last time)

So I got into all my grubby clothes and pulled on a pair of shoes. As I went down the stairs, I could still hear it, so I expected that it would be quite audible when I stepped out onto the front yard.

It wasn't.

In fact, nothing was very audible. There's a little bit of a breeze, but nothing unusual. No dead cat, or skunk, or Mexican Crying Moth, or baby tucked into a picnic basket. Well, maybe she just died, something suggested in my head. I think it was my reticular formation again, trying to make excuses for waking me up at a terrible hour. But I decided to check on her anyway.

She's fine. As are the kids... er... kittens. So I crawled back up the stairs (they're very steep) and into bed.

I think that's all I care to say. I'm awfully tired. Go to sleep, people. Go to sleep.

I'm feeling melancholy. I ran into one of the girls that I used to work with at the coffee shop at Wal-Mart tonight—she's just a kid and already two months' pregnant. I mean, I love babies and all, but I wish she wasn't pregnant yet, not until she's older... not until she's got a good solid man who's giving up his life for her minute by minute.

But I'm kinda excited too. She's been on my prayer list forever and now I can add her baby to it, too.

In completely unrelated news, I'm having an uncomfortable night as a gigantic bird keeps calling and swooping at my window. It's creepy, even though I'm sure that most of the creepiness is caused by the fog and the moonlight glistening on the barn owl.