Tuesday, November 28, 2006

A static and solemnly invincible alibi

The moment the cold air rushed in from my open car door I could feel it coming.
The atmosphere was permeated with the smell of campfire smoke and the ominous gray calm before a snowfall. Standing on the front porch I sifted through my bag, searching frantically for my lost key while juggling and dropping my books and violin case. Something monstrous twinged in my stomach as I crossed the threshold and I sat down on the stairs for a minute with my head between my knees.
Leaving school early had been a blessing in disguise.
I stumbled up to my bedroom and shut the door, throwing my books onto my bed. Outside the snow was already beginning to fall, illuminating the room with white light until the sun passed behind leaden clouds and left me huddled in shadows.
I opened my history book and squinted at the section on Louis XVI. The words blurred and once again I felt anemic and queasy. Leaning my head back on the pillows I commenced to daydream and gaze out the window, taking deep breaths and trying to regain control over myself. I watched a Chickadee cock his head at me through the glass as he followed a trail of winter sunflower seeds. My hands and feet were very cold, but my forehead was feverish; already a silver sheen of sweat enveloped my skin, and I could hear my heart racing in my head-- thumpthumpthump.
I closed my eyes.
I had nightmares as I slept. I was lost in a confusing maze of black and nothingness. The emptiness of the space scared me more than the darkness. There was quiet screaming somewhere in the back of mind, successively raising volume decibel by decibel. I twisted and turned until I was hopelessly tangled in my sheets. The screams became unbearably loud. I awoke suddenly and sat bolt upright.
With shaking fingers I stuck my finger with the lancett and drew a perfect drop of blood.
37, the meter read. I had dropped with unbelievable speed.
I drank some grape juice-- greedily and hungrily, still shivering. I immediately felt the heat appease and I dropped off into the state of peaceful rest I had hoped for.
Somebody barged noisily into my room, and stopped short of the bed. A worried silence ensued as I unconsciously felt my mother's eyes rake over my bloodless cheeks and weakened state. I did not open my eyes. I felt her cool hand on my forehead and her lips on my cheek. With the reverence befitting a tomb she backed slowly out the door.
Outside the snow continued to fall.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Twilight of illiteracy

Well it was inevitable. I never thought it would happen, but I've finally done it.
I've taught myself to read.
Today, the Thanksgiving of November 23rd, 2006, I read over 500 pages of an honest, true, undeniable, bona fide novel. There was no class sophistication in this particular book either. It involved the supernatural, the fiction, the cheesiness... and yes, even the romance of modern literature. What? No Dickens? No pocket dictionary required? Joslynn read something... normal? And she liked it? What?
It began while I was waiting for the Turkey. That icon of holiday goodness- that symbol of gratitude, and pilgrimage, and thanksgiving- took forever and a day to cook. I had grown restless watching my father marinate and massage that horrible fowl, so I casually picked up a novel that had been thrown haphazardly on my bed by Shirsti. Twilight, written by Stephanie Myer. Not only did it involve vampires, but the author was a graduate of BYU. I distinctly remember thinking, 'Uh-oh, this could be more than a little entertaining! Let's have a go at it.'
And then I started. And then I never stopped, except for short snippets of time to casually converse with a cousin or two, or to steal another roll. My Thanksgiving was utterly lost within the pages of a book. That has never happened to me before. Ever.
I do feel guilty for my introverted ways. I honestly believed I could pull off a sociable facade. For the first time in months I was under the same roof as the Parker family: possibly the most entertaining people in the world to watch. Unfortunately, I suck at life.
"Watcha reading Joslynn?"(said consecutively by at least twelve nameless relatives).
"Um... a book." (Obvious, "Go away, I'm reading" response).
"What's it about?"
Not wanting to give them a synopsis of my ridiculous novel, I would then ween the conversation away from me until they felt their obligation to pelt me with questions fulfilled.
So perhaps my day was not filled with the expected sunny joys of family and food. I could hardly manage to eat a bite in between chapters. However, I have discovered yet another thing to be grateful for: entertaining books. And for now I am not speaking of great books that change minds and lives and institutions, nor educational books that enlighten the brain and inspire the heart. Good, old fashioned, entertainment in the written form is what I'm thankful for today, because I have not enjoyed it since I've discovered I could read.
I think I'm in love.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Ode to the Winkles

In the Looking Glass
Who am I?
What face is this?
This face...
These lines of crusty wrinkles?
These memoirs of days past...
Who is this woman I've become?
This old hag,
With her crooked teeth
And shagged hair?
This bar wench,
That strung her beaus on a kite string,
Who attracted the men like flies to a junkyard mutt?
No Loreal crinkle cream can change the mark
Of time on this face.
"I hate it when people have stinky teeth."

A beautiful siren's song--
Undulating waves
Of the most dELiciOus kind.
A bellyLaugh...
A low rumble
Deep within the guts,
in our BoWELs.
Oh capture me again!
Into the moonlight we ride
My beautiful Pegasus of the sea...
Just the two of us--
Me, and my Manatee.
"Oh there you are Peter!"

Blood pulsing...
Eyes shifting...
Parchment of the tongue....
Water! Water!
Where is Water? Oh, Spear of Tridant!
Wilt thou not come
And wet my tired lips
With nature's kiss?
With thy tinkling tears
Sing a song
of OCEANS...
and an oasis
In the mist?
"Giga-who? Giga-what? Gigabixel."

Winkles and Winkettes
Once upon a time...
I forget the rhyme
Uh, sizzle fo' shizzle, my nizzle
Signin' out.
"Long live Bill Clinton!"

Here a Winkle, there a Dinkle
Everywhere a stinky Stinkle.
There's no stopping
A bee-bop
A boo-bop
A rhubarb pie.
"Anyone want a piece?"

Monday, November 06, 2006

Everybody needs an editor...

These are the gems of my picture library that I simply could not keep to myself. My personal favorites? Shirpa sports a frumpy blue morning jacket and a not-yet-brushed, pre-breakfast smile, and Winky blushingly belly laughs while giving a clear view up her left nostril.
How, you may ask, can one be so cruel as to delight in the misfortunes of others? Well, friends, I can tell you one thing: They do not face the curse of bad photography alone. I have enough blackmail in my possession to rule the world. Almost.

Shirsti, Koseli, Kristian, Kari: If you read this post, my most sincere apologies. It can't be helped. Remember, we are all beautiful until the camera catches us at a bad angle.

If these produce such a laugh elsewhere as the one I enjoyed when I saw them, then I have done my duty.

Bon Apetit! (

Joslynn looks ugly in an attempt to wink

Photo courtesy of Joslynn's genius