Today I was compelled to act violently

Today my mom and my sister and I went shopping together (all part of The Famous Fortnight of Fantastic-time-spending!!). As we were driving down the road, we ended up at a stoplight, right behind the most revolting, horrendous, sinfully ugly thing I have ever seen. It was...

a Chevrolet SSR.

BARF!!!!

I think I have found the ugliest car on the planet. As I stared at its ugly, lumpy, imitation-truck backside, I found myself undergoing a strange chemical/hormonal/whatever reaction. Hatred for that nasty, naaasty vehicle started to well up inside of me. I had a strong urge to act violently toward that pathetic excuse for a car... or is it a truck...? Or a hideous beast of ugliness and death? I don't know what it is. But I wanted to kill it. I still kind of want to maim it a little bit.

Normally, I'm not a violent person. I guess not anyway. But for some strange reason, seeing that... THING made me horrifically angry. I like cars. I drive what is possibly the cutest car on earth.

Ta-daaa!!
Everyone, meet Poppy.
:)

Now, I realize that it is not always practical to drive your dream car. Sometimes you have to stick with the car that has enough space, fits within your budget, and gets you from point A to point B. I used to drive my parents' old maroon Astro van, and I was extremely grateful to be able to do so. I understand that a car is, primarily, a practical item. But the SSR (Super Sport Roadster--what?!?!) is not only ugly, it is impractical! What can you put in the bed of the truck? Umm, pretty much nothing. How many people does it seat? TWO. How expensive is it? Upwards of $24,000! Insane!

Anyway, sorry about the rant. Also, my apologies to any owners of a Chevy SSR that may be reading this. Really, I'm so sorry that you drive that car.

What do you do with 14 days?

Here we are, in the middle of August. In two weeks, I'll be moving out again, returning to cute little Provo, UT for my second year of college.



Wait, WHAT?!?!

First of all, the phrase "my second year of college" sounds absolutely bizarre to my little ears. Am I seriously over halfway done with my undergraduate degree? How did THAT happen?

Second of all, how is it that this summer--which, three weeks ago, I thought would never end--is rapidly coming to a close?

Third of all, what am I going to do with these last two weeks? I'm super excited for school to start again (seriously, I can't wait), but I feel that the next two weeks need to be jam-packed with quality time spendage. My family rocks, so I'd better pack in the good times before I hit the southbound freeway.

I swear that the passage of time undergoes some serious alterations once you reach age 16. Elementary school seemed to drag along at a snail's pace, and middle school seemed to take longer than it was worth. High school actually moved along pretty nicely. That is, it did until my senior year, when time suddenly purchased a rocket engine jet pack and sped away faster than I could say "graduation." Don't get me wrong, I was SO GLAD (so ridiculously glad - no offense, awesome teachers and friends) to get out of high school and start livin', but after high school, time started moving at an absurdly fast pace. My first year of college was over in the blink of an eye. (That was one expensive blink. But it could have been worse. Thank you scholarships!)

I'm a little afraid to start another year of "adulthood." I'm not afraid of the challenges or the hardships that I'm sure will come. Those are unavoidable, so I'd rather not waste energy on that kind of fear. I'm more afraid that I'll miss something. The same goes for the 14 days I have before I move away from home again. I'm very lucky. I have a rockin' family, a great neighborhood, a good job, and plenty of volunteer opportunities. With just two weeks left, I can't let a second go to waste, so I'm going to make the most out of the next fortnight (hee hee, cool). Ladies and gentlemen, presenting The Famous Fortnight of Fantastic-time-spending.