Headed to the Bayou

I don't want to spoil anything for my upcoming post, but I'm about to head south for my Fourth of July weekend -- to New Orleans. The agenda includes a swamp tour (hopefully some alligator wrestling. Or eating. Or both.) and an afternoon/night exploring New Orleans. Should be crazy. And crazy fun. Stay tuned!

The One in Which I Prepare to Leave College

I was flipping through a travel magazine yesterday morning while on the elliptical, and I saw this quote:

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.  ~Rabindranath Tagore

I almost cried.

I also was listening to Garth Brooks at the time, and the song "Unanswered Prayers" came on. And I almost cried.

A prompt song change followed.

Besides not being able to breathe (cuz I'm rather out of shape), the only reason I didn't cry in both instances was because I was in public. And once I start crying, I turn into an all-out heaving, sobbing snot-fest. I decided to save the other poor patrons of the treadmill from my blubbering. Besides, snot doesn't mix well with sweat.

So I saved it until I got home.

Then I replayed "Unanswered Prayers" and had a good long cry.

My third in two days.

I'm going crazy.

Or rather, I'm getting ready to graduate. And I'm trying to process that fact. Because it is a fact now. A looming, impending doom fact that will soon take me away from all I have loved so dearly in the last four years.

Oh, I know I'll be able to rebuild a home and community again. I will meet good people again. I'll grow to love them. And contrary to how it may seem lately, I am still very excited about moving to Alabama and teaching and working to change things.

And yet... there will never be anything like this experience again. No one will ever be able to replace the amazing women I have gotten to know here. I love them all, and it will hurt so much to leave them.

While talking on the phone with my mom the other day, she said that at least it actually does hurt to leave. That means you are leaving behind something good.

And it's true. I have decided that the amount of pain I am experiencing right now is directly proportional to how amazing my time in college has been. I guess I can be happy I hurt this much, because it means that I squeezed every ounce of fun, growth, and challenge out of these four years.

So I think of that butterfly quote above, and my interpretation of it (Live life to the fullest? Suck every ounce of awesomeness out of any experience you ever have?), and I am sorta heartened. Kinda.

Because while it didn't last long enough, it was perfect in every way. I can definitely say that I lived it up.

RedBud Film Festival

The Student Film Production Club hosted our 3rd Annual RedBud Film Festival on Tuesday. My last major event to plan as a college student is over. Hallelujah!

Overall, it went pretty well. We had a record number of films submitted, and the films selected were our strongest set of student films yet. Production quality and story content have really stepped up this year, and I really couldn't be more proud of everyone (SFPC member or not) who made films this year. So awesome.

My heart is swelling with pride. From something I had zero control over. Go figure.

Of course, the event wasn't perfect. I was late showing up, we had some technical difficulties with someone's film, and we had some rando guy pull an "I'm Still Here" stunt on us. He was filming a documentary of himself (in exactly the same way that Joaquin Phoenix filmed his short "going crazy" stint), and decided to use our festival for one of his stunts.

So at intermission, he runs up on stage and steals the microphone, complaining about how his film didn't get submitted -- "I'm an artist! I'm an f*cking brilliant artist! My film was perfect!"

Not cool.

After he was forced off the stage, one of our filmmakers chased after him and gave him a piece of her mind, shaming him into writing me an apology email.

Crazy stuff. Never a dull moment with the Student Film Production Club.

So now that the festival is over, my time as the SFPC is coming to a complete close. Next week is our last officer's meeting, which is really just a turning over of the guard.

Which has pretty much already happened.

The club isn't my baby anymore. Event at the festival, it was less a "Goodbye Virginia" than a "We can't wait til next year" feeling. Which is awesome. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Though I did get a song dedication at the get-together afterward. So no complaints.

I am excited about the future of the club, though sad I wont get to be a part of it. Having seen the club come up from absolutely nothing, and looking at the successful force it is now, I am really proud of my involvement. I can't wait to see what awesome things it does in the next few years!

Afternoon at the Mont

When the weather is pleasant, all my friends and I want to do is be outside. Conveniently, just down the street is this place called the Mont, which has an outdoor patio. And their campus-famous swirls. And delicious chips and queso.

So the other day, to celebrate the gorgeous 80+ degree weather and the cool breeze from the incoming storm, Val, Brit and I went to the Mont for a swirl and some good chatting.

Now that we are getting so close to graduation (26 days!!!), all I want to do is hang out with my roommates and friends. I don't care about classes (though I still enjoy them) and I sure as hell don't care about homework. Hate to admit it, but my capstone project is going to be a joke. I'll be using Xtranormal, if that tells you anything.

And of all the things I'm going to miss here, it'll be the people. Sure, I'll miss the lifestyle. I'll miss being on my own time and own initiative. But most of all, I'll miss my roommates and the closeness we've created over the last year living together. And I'll miss the friends I've made during college (especially over this last year). Why is it that I meet all these cool people with only a year left to get to know them? Why couldn't I have met all these people freshman year? Oh the injustice! *shake fists*

I'm not ready to grow up. I'm not ready to get a real job. And I'm definitely not ready to move away and leave this oasis of awesome.

Anyone know of a good time machine salesman?

Crowdstory App Submitted!

I stayed up way too late last night (think 3 hours of sleep), but it was all well worth it.

The developers on my business internship team have been working hard all week (all semester really) to complete the programming on our iPhone App– Crowdstory– by last night, so I decided that I wanted to show them my support and gratitude for all their hard work.

So I made them cheese quesadillas.

And I brought apple slices and Ritz crackers with cream cheese (that I spread on while there).

I’m getting this Soccer Mom business out of my system early.

After feeding the guys at about 1:00 a.m., I decided to stick around for a while to keep them company. This mostly involved stealing my team leader’s iPhone and recording a bunch of audio “snippets” (recorded stories) on the Beta version of Crowdstory, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I barricaded myself into a room adjoining the developers, and whenever I recorded a particularly entertaining snippet (if I do say so myself), I’d run into the other room and triumphantly share it with the developers before disappearing into my soundproof cubicle again.

I told myself I was recording in a soundproof room solely for audio quality assurance purposes. In actuality, it was so they wouldn’t see how many tries it took me to get a good snippet recorded (Average = 4 restarts). I’d prefer them to think I’m normally that funny.

But seriously, y’all — the Crowdstory App is SO. MUCH. FUN.

And I’m not just saying that because I’m a part of the team (though I guess I maybe look at it in slightly rosey hues).

It’s really that great.

I mean, until last night, the Crowdstory App been just some nebulous idea to me. It was merely a concept, some abstract thing that we’d been talking about, brainstorming for, and stressing over for the last semester and a half.

But last night, holding that iPhone in my hand and recording snippets, Crowdstory became real to me. Real, tangible and sooooooo awesome.

I was beside myself. Delirious with joy, really.

In fact, I was so ecstatic about the App that I probably annoyed the bajeezees out of those poor, stressed-out, exhausted developers. Well, you know what they say… Hind-sight is 20/20.

But anyway, three hours and 21 snippets later, I was privileged to be a part of a colossal moment in Crowdstory history. To the tune of nervous looks and (probably annoying) commentary from me (recorded on a snippet!), Frank clicked the Submit button.

The Mac’s thinking rainbow wheel spun.

Tense faces all around.

No one breathed.

Except me, who couldn’t keep my mouth shut and kept spouting random things onto the snippet I was recording (titled “App Submission — Final Installment”).

Me: “This is an epic moment for Crowdstory…”

Everyone Else: “………”

And then, all the sudden, there popped up a box. It read, “The Crowdstory App has been submitted to the App store.”

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!

The moment we’d been anticipating since September!

Hugs, cheers, and congratulations ensued. Epic celebrations.

And now all we have to do is wait for Apple to check out our App, see how awesome it is, and approve it for the App Store. And we’re in business.

I can’t wait to share the App with all you who own iPhones — you’re going to love it!

P.S. To give credit where credit is due, our awesome Crowdstory developers are Greg Gustafson, Frank Lezu, Zach Whaley, and Daniel Bailey. Some of the nicest, smartest guys you'll ever meet. Amen.

Final Memoir Piece

Today was our last day of the memoir writing seminar. Despite not really spending enough of our time in the class itself, I'm sad to leave it. I've been having such a good time getting to know everyone, and I am definitely enjoying the brief hiatus from reality.

Too bad I have to return from the magical land of writing tomorrow. So tragic.

The last thing we did for the seminar was read our personal memoir piece (that we'd been working on during the course of the seminar) to the rest of the group.

My piece -- included below -- is one of my earliest memories, when I was about two years old.

---*---

Graduating w/ Distinction (and Some Street Smarts)

It was with no small measure of pride that I watched Brittany, one of my amazing roommates and a very good friend for the last three and a half years, walk across the stage this morning and receive her college diploma. She is officially a graduate of the University of Oklahoma, and it is incredible to me that she has already reached this point in her life. Where did the time go?

I can still remember so much about freshman year -- sitting in the hallway on edge as we waited for our sorority t-shirts (telling us which sorority we'd be a part of), suffering from unrequited crushes on upperclassmen, Tuesday lunch dates at Couch Express (best bread bowl soup ever), getting all gussied up for girls night dinners in Bricktown, painfully awkward sorority date parties, our trips to the gym at 11 p.m. (we were crazy), freaking out because we had to write a five page paper, the point system we developed to attempt escape from the Freshman Fifteen (10 pts for going to the gym, etc... you needed to earn 20 before you got to get dessert at the caf).

We came into university life all doe-eyed and ambitious, and while I think we leave with a little less naivety and unsupportable idealism, we definitely leave with the same healthy dose of ambition -- grounded in reality and the successes we've all seen over the last four years.

I am so proud of my roommates. Not just Brittany, but all four of them. And when it's time for the rest of us to walk across that stage, I think we'll be ready. Like the commencement speaker at Brittany's ceremony said today, we've been trained well. OU and our lives here have perfectly prepared us for that moment when we shake hands, take pictures, and hold that little square of paper that tells us we are officially ready for the real world. Gives me chills just thinking about it.

Dinner Reminiscing

A great way to not do homework and study for upcoming tests is to think about where I'll be in a week. I will be in Arizona. I am so excited about getting to have an entire week with my mom, my sister, and my brother. I haven't seen them since August, and we always have so much fun just spending time together and catching up.

I was thinking about this today-- One of my favorite parts about being with family members is that dinner is always delightfully full of Remember-When's. Almost every dinner hour is filled with stories and laughter (My poor brother-in-law... he usually is out of the loop on everything) and recounting all the funny things that happened to us as children.

For example, when we were very young and growing up, my mother was quite the health nut. Typical meals consisted of rice, veggies and maybe a little tofu sprinkled in, and there was almost zero sugar to be found around the house. My earliest memories of drinking pop are when the grandparents would come up to Montana to visit and, probably taking pity on us poor children, would bring bottles of Cherry Coke and chocolate milk with them.

Chess Club and Upending the King

Every Wednesday, there is a group of guys who play chess in the library coffee shop (I'm pretty sure they're an official student organization), and I always see them playing when I stop by to kill time and get my caffeine fix between classes. I literally can't see a chess set without feeling the urge to play, and I kept telling myself that one of these days, when I didn't have anything pressing to do, I'd stop and ask them if I could play a game of chess.

Yesterday was that day.

I'd just gotten my coffee, and I looked at the clock on the wall. I had about forty minutes to spare before my last class of the day. Why not finally play that game of chess?

One kid sitting there doesn't have an opponent, so I walk up and ask if I can play. He sizes me up. I can almost hear him laughing inside. The chick thinks she can play chess, huh?

My Thankful List

Disclaimer: This post is uncharacteristically sappy. Reading not recommended after a hearty meal of turkey leftovers. The sentimental/tryptophan combo could be lethal.


The other day, I was cleaning up a pile of papers, and I found one of the many running lists I'd made while on shift at work last year. It was a list counting my blessings (perfect timing, with Thanksgiving right around the corner). For those of you who weren't around for that part of my life, I used to be a cocktail waitress at a bar. It was the worst (though best paying) job I've ever had.

When people ask me why I quit, my standard response is that the job sucked my soul. I kinda think it's funny to say it that way, but I guess it's too dramatic for most people because I usually just get a blank stare from them. Anyway, while that reason is obviously an exaggeration, it wasn't too far off at times.

The job constantly dragged me down. I was working in an environment where, in order to make money, I had to pander to/smile at/flirt with people who looked at me like I was less than them (just because I was a waitress). I wasn't used to people treating me that way, and sometimes it was downright humiliating. To this day, I'm amazed I stuck it out for so long. If it hadn't been for my strengthening friendship with good ol' Lincoln, Jackson, and Franklin, I'd have quit the day after football season ended.

One day when the job was particularly bad, I flipped over one of the waitressing notepads in my apron and on the back I started a running list of all the things in my life that I was grateful for. The list started small, but by the end of the night, I had over a hundred tiny bulleted points. What started as a 'Hail Mary' ended up being critical to maintaing my sanity that night. Just taking the time to acknowledge my blessings did wonders to my "poor me" attitude and grumpy spirit. Because truly, I have a lot to be thankful for.

The landscape of my life has changed considerably since the time when I wrote that note a year ago. Aside from still being a college student and having the same core group of wonderful friends, so much of what is around me has shifted. I have a niece. My family looks different. I am hunting for post-college opportunities and preparing for living in the real world. I have been single for the longest stretch I can remember since I started dating way back in high school, and I'm loving it. I don't have to work at a bar anymore, and instead I get to reclaim my Friday nights for friends and my Saturday mornings for painting. I'm looking at pursuing other careers besides film (though loving films will always ben ingrained in me -- and if someone asked me to produce their film, I wouldn't say no).

So that is the first thing on my Thankful List this year. I am thankful that my life is in a good place right now.


In no particular order, I am grateful for:

1. My neice Isabella and the fact that, while I may be light years away from being ready to have my own kids, someone else is not. And that particular someone (my gorgeous sister) was kind enough to grace the world with something as precious as that little bubble of light.

2. The opportunity to live in a nice house (within walking distance to campus) with my closest friends -- whom I have gotten to know so much better and have appreciated so much more over the course of this semester.

3. The chance to stretch myself by working on a business team that's creating a software company. While this isn't a project that I would normally have pursued otherwise, I've really enjoyed learning what it means to belong to a start-up company. Also, I have a fun team, which one should always have if one can help it.

4. The existence of Saturday mornings, which I can fill with painting and not feel guitly about it. And I'm grateful that my roommates actually let me put my paintings up on the wall. That's cool too.

5. Having a clear enough schedule this November to try my hand at writing a novel (and having people who support my creative whims -- where would I be without you?).

6. The growing readership on my blog and the fact that I'm not just writing for my immediate family anymore (though I'll always love you).

7. And last but not least, I'm grateful for the opportunity to write and share my Thankful List (which is considerably more fun than a New Years Resolutions list -- much more positive and far less critical).

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday!

Fireworks in November!!!

Photo stolen from my friend Megan's FB page.

Still not sure why that just happened... but that was officially THE COOLEST thing ever. Random fireworks in November? Yes please. 

    Best Firework Show I've Ever Seen

    Brisk, Beautiful Evening

+ The Company of a Good Friend 

An Awesome Saturday

Update: Apparently we just watched the firework show that was supposed to have gone off on the 4th of July. But since it rained on the 4th this year, they postponed the show. Until tonight. 

I love surprises!

Fried Food, Football and Friends (cont'd)

Finding a good place to watch the OU/TX football game turned out to be a bit of an adventure. Our first inclination was to head to the end of the West End, to the House of Blues. Tess had heard something about it, so I figured that was recommendation enough to at least check it out.

Our wanderings took us by these awesome glasses... I want a pair!

When we got to the House of Blues, we got in some random line outside one of the front doors, which took us up to the top floor. We didn't know where we were headed, so I kinda feel lucky that we ended up in a restaurant and not some creepy haunted floor or raunchy strip club.

The restaurant ended up being this exotic Indian food place, complete with cloth-covered walls, plush pillows around knee-high tables, and dim lighting. It was beautiful, and would be an absolute blast to go on a date or take a group of friends there. But it wasn't exactly the football atmosphere we were looking for. After taking some pictures to document the moment, we snuck back down the elevator.

Before we left the House of Blues entirely, however, we wandered around the building's many levels and rooms. It kinda reminded me of Dante descending through the various levels of Hell or whatnot (except that it wasn't anything remotely like Hell). But it was fun to explore, because each room we walked through was distinctly different from the last in decorations and atmosphere... Thinks going from plush Indian carpeting to heavy-metal scream-o band. 

Finally we ended up at Hooters (classy, I know), where it was already packed. Definitely a football game atmosphere. The hostess said the wait would be anywhere between 30 minutes and four hours-- depending if anyone left during the game. That was unlikely. 

We were about to give up and try somewhere else when we noticed a gap at the bar. There weren't any seats there, but there was definitely space. So we convinced some guys to let us squeeze in next to them, pulling up tall stools from nearby tables. Randomly, Tess ended up knowing one of the guys, so we weren't even sitting next to complete strangers either.

The game was a blast. We won, 28-20. And our seats at the bar were prime real estate -- we had a perfect view of numerous TVs and all it took was flagging down the bartender to get something to eat/drink. No wait time. So naturally I took advantage of that, eating a giant burger before kick-off, followed by fried pickles during half-time. And I probably drank at least ten tall glasses of Pepsi. At least. I mean, those games last foreeeeeever.

It was pretty late by the time the game ended, and Tess and I headed back to the hotel (where the car was still parked) to wait for Brittany and Valerie. I fell asleep while we were waiting.

Once they joined us, we piled into the car and drove to Fort Worth (about 45 minutes away). We ate at this really fun mexican restaurant called Joe T. Garcia's, which is super famous (locally) and takes up almost an entire square block. It is surrounded by a high wall, and inside it is full of fountains, overgrown plants, tall trees, and giant terracotta pots. It's so big (and beautiful) that you could have your wedding reception on one end of the plaza, and the place could still be open for business on the other.

After dinner, we went to Billy Bob's for some good ol' two-stepping. I'd never done it before, but it was so so so so much fun. I LOVE DANCING!

The place itself was pretty neat. It's all one open room (no walls), and on one end of the building was a large stage where Clint Black was playing (woot for live music!), and on the other end was an area with casino and arcade-type games. In the center of it all was a dance floor. Perfect for two-stepping.

Apparently there is place similar to Billy Bob's in Oklahoma City that my roommate Madison has been trying to get everyone to go to for a while now. I was always pretty lukewarm about the idea, but now.... now that I know what it means to two-step (oh the spinning!), I'd be happy to spend every Friday night there. And so, with only one year left of school, I just might buckle and buy myself some cowboy boots--- A girl's gotta dance.

Fried Food, Football and Friends

I'm back from my brief encounter with Texas, and I can say with certainty that that's the best time I've ever had in Dallas, hands down. I love my friends.

We started our weekend on Thursday, driving down late in the evening to go to a birthday dinner that our roommate Brittany's family had planned for her. And while it was fun, we've all decided that turning twenty-two seems rather anti-climatic after all the much-celebrated, highly-anticipated birthdays of the past.

Think about it... Every birthday until you are six is awesome because it's really easy to shop for you and Mom throws a huge party because she's one year closer to getting you out of diapers or out of the house for half-day preschool. Ten is the bomb because you're officially double digits (and for me, the "golden birthday" that's supposed to mean something but doesn't really), and fifteen in Montana means you get your drivers license (or at least, it used to). Sweet Sixteen comes next-- the best birthday party I've ever had (think Capture the Flag and s'mores). And then, of course, comes your two biggest birthdays -- Eighteen (legally an adult) and Twenty-One (socially an adult). All the big ones.

After that, the celebrations get smaller and smaller. Less and less people come out for your party. And if it weren't for Facebook, people wouldn't even know it was your special day. Sometimes, my parents wouldn't even remember how old they were turning. Now that's depressing.

Anyway... to tie that tangent in, Brittany had a lovely 22nd celebration with family, good Mexican food, and delicious ice-cream cake.

The next morning (Friday), we slept in, didn't do any of the homework we told ourselves we'd do, and headed into downtown Dallas around one, hitting some serious traffic on the way in. To be expected, though we definitely (thankfully) missed the masses that came later that afternoon.

Friday evening, we got ourselves all gussied up and headed to the West End, an area of downtown Dallas that is traditionally full of OU and UT fans on the night before the big game. It's a sea of orange and red, and everyone shouts and taunts each other (all in good fun, but there are lots of policemen around, just in case it gets out of hand-- apparently they made 52 arrests there that night). The most popular cheer from the OU camp was "U-C-L-A! U-C-L-A!" (because UT lost to UCLA the weekend before). It's a fun, rowdy atmosphere, and it was all the more fun because you're constantly seeing people you know.

Saturday was a beautiful day. We took our time getting ready in the morning and then we joined the mass of students leaving our hotel and hopping on the DART (Hooray for public transportation!). We got off the DART at the West End, where Valerie and Brittany, proud owners of tickets to the game, split off to grab a quick bite to eat before heading to the fairgrounds (where the football stadium is). Tess and I, however, did not have tickets.

And so we set off to find a fun place to watch the game, which turned into an adventure (to be continued)...

Nostalgic Again

I miss Montana. I have been on quite the nostalgic kick this last week, and I'll blame it squarely on having coffee with Dr. Horton and watching picture after picture of gorgeous Glacier National Park slide past on the television (he'd purchased some sort of DVD photo slideshow while he was there with his wife this summer). That started it all.

Since then, I've literally googled Glacier National Park and Yellowstone National Park at least two or three times apiece and scrolled through Google Images of the parks for hundreds of pages. I've looked through as many old pictures of my childhood as I can find, and I cried when I heard Miranda Lambert's song "The House That Built Me."

I also wrote that blog about Homegrown Tomatoes (which meant that I spent at least an hour watching silly photo slideshows and homemade videos of anything Montana on YouTube). And I went through my financials for the semester and tried to work out if I could make a trip up to Montana for Christmas break. That would make me so happy -- to see old friends and familiar places again. And maybe I could work in a trip to the mountains.

What would life be without homegrown tomatoes?

Homegrown tomatoes, homegrown tomatoes,
What'd life be without homegrown tomatoes?
There's only two things that money can't buy...
And that's true love & homegrown tomatoes.

Ever since being the lucky recipient of a bunch of little homegrown tomatoes yesterday morning, I can't get this song out of my head. It brings me back to camping in Paradise Valley, Montana, and going to see an old country/folk band play at a small diner nearby (tucked into the hillside on the side of the highway). I think the band was called Paradise Players, and they sang all these classic old country songs that we used to listen to on tape all the time.

In fact, we listened to their music so much that I still have most of their songs memorized, and I haven't heard them in over ten years.

So after singing this song to myself all day (but only remembering the refrain), I finally looked up the lyrics. And then the "Homegrown Tomatoes" song took me back, so I had to google the Paradise Players and see what they were up to. Doesn't look like they are still a band (not surprising since they played forever ago), but I did stumble upon a little homemade YouTube film of a Fourth of July parade in Livingston, Montana, which is right around where I used to live for a year or two growing up.

Favorite parts of this little treasure:

0:38 -- So cute!

0:57-1:37 -- I love this small-town parade. Everyone looks so happy!

4:35 -- That float is actually pretty impressive.

6:10 -- So so so adorable. I challenge you not to yawn as well.

7:17-8:24 -- Makes me miss small-town living a little. A very little.

"I think God must have been a cowboy at heart,

Cause he made wide open spaces from the start.

He made grass and trees and mountains and a horse to be a friend,

And trails to lead ol' cowboys home again."

- "God Must Be a Cowboy"-- sung by Dan Seals

Jurassic Park Nightmares

Bahaha! This reminds me of exactly how I felt the first time I saw Jurassic Park. I couldn't stop looking around the room, thinking that under my bed wouldn't be a very effective place to hide from a velociraptor (he could smell me too easily) but my closet might work.

In fact, Jurassic Park is the only movie that has ever given me nightmares. Ever.

And its always the same dream. We are still living in our little white house on Poly Drive, where my brother Stan and I share a bedroom. My bed is closest to the window (which opens to the sidewalk that leads to our backdoor). There is also, oddly enough, a small window from our room that looks into the laundry room/coat room/ back door area.

In my dream, three velociraptors force their way into the laundry room. It's night and the whole house is asleep. I'm the only one awake, still reading some book that I can't put down. I hear the disturbance and look into the next room, only to see the terrifying dinosaurs smelling our laundry piles and making their way toward the kitchen. I rouse Stan awake. Somehow I already know the rest of my family isn't in the house (I like how in dreams, we just know these sorts of things), so they're safe. I open the window and Stan crawls through. He's safe.

Then for some reason, I can never get out the window. The window is suddenly too small. Or too high up. Or has slammed shut on me. In all the times I've had this dream, I've never gotten out the window. Instead, I search frantically for a place to hide as I hear the raptors in the hall. Usually I dive under the bed. Sometimes I pull the dresser out from the wall and crawl behind it. It's difficult finding good hiding spots in my little bedroom.

The raptors crash through the door. They're huge. In fact, I think they usually transform from velociraptors to T-Rex-es by the time they get to my room. I crouch and hold my breath as they thud into the room, sniffing and snorting.

Let me tell you, its the most terrifying dream I've ever had. Nothing else compares. I'm trapped and I can't run. When I do occasionally try to run past them to the open door, its feels like I am running waist deep through molasses. I wonder how a psychologist would analyze this one.

Of course, the dinosaurs stay in my room for an eternity. My subconscious likes to torture me, I think, because this part lasts the longest, and it never really ends. I just wake up. There's no closure. The dinosaurs don't leave, they don't die, and they don't miraculously become friendly or turn into lovable puppies.

I've stopped watching scary movies. I really don't like them in general, but part of me avoids them because I don't want to keep reliving The Ring or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in my dreams all the time. Giant dinosaurs in tiny spaces is enough for me.