Entry.

I actually got out of the house for reasons other than to wash vomit off my shoes. I know. It calls for a celebration.

Thursday I went to the junior high to help out with lunch duty and paperwork. There's some really tiny kids there. I need to write down all the things I did there sometime.

Friday I went to the YSA dance. I hate the term "YSA." I don't think one's relationship status should be part of it. It merely amplifies the hypocrisy of the thing-emphasis on being single but you're a freak if you're not married to a returned missionary at the ripe age of nineteen. Too much contradictions. But I went with our ward group and had some fun being in a circle of people making up dance moves. And I did the boot-scootin' boogie a couple times. I must mention the fog outside was so cool-it was like living in Halloween Town. Last time I remember fog like that was first grade.

So I woke up at one thirty this afternoon, still exhausted and quite sore. Country music isn't good for my weak health. And while accordions kick musical butt, a line of guys doing pow-wow noises to the polka before snatching away female hostages into a springy mosh pit is not. I got my forearm hit and can feel the deep bruising but have no visible bruising and fear my complaints wouldn't be considered legit.

Today after a brief stop to the library where I picked up this:

Amethystium! It's the project of Øystein Ramfjord. Why do Norwegians make such good music? I really like his compositions. New-age without being hokey. Where the keyboards don't sound like keyboards. Ethereal.

And then to the craft store because everything there is neat and I needed stuff for the Stolen Babies concert this Friday. They're the kind of band that comes out to hang out with the crowd after they perform, so I'm giving them a blank sketchbook, but I will paint something on the cover [haven't thought of what yet] since they're genuine artists and can use it to doodle and scribble on...not to mention they do a couple lines that make it work as a gift: Notebook, scrapbook/Somehow I've misplaced you/You were a scratch on a paper/Ink and a voice not meant to look back at me...

Yup. And I picked up some cool Indian pendant things because as I just wrote, they were cool. A

That's about it. Time to sleep some more.