When Albert Einstein died, his final words died with him. The nurse at his side didn't understand German.

So, I JUST realized that this handy dandy blogspot here doesn't have the nice notification system like Facebook that alerts me when I get comments. Or I'm dumb. Probably the latter. But to my two subscribers, I love you both dearly :) I didn't think anyone would actually want to read my rant here. I read you guyses 'cause you actually have something to say. I'm just silly!

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Ahhh, registration time.

Ahhh, how classes don't work out in the order you'd like them too. They are offered at either: the exact same time of day, with very big gaps in the day, not the ones you wanted being offered, are already full before you're allowed to register (seriously, can we start having some gladiator wars over who gets to register first or something?), etc, etc.

Either way, I get to meet with my advisor tomorrow, who also happens to be my (terrible at teaching) stats professor. Whoo. This is a busy week. Several projects due, a couple of tests; nothing like college, my brethren.

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I was raised a cradle Catholic. And while things are all up in drama in that departemanteh right now, for me, I do go to mass every Sunday with my 89 year old grandmother, who gets around quite well for her age. Actually, she gets around better than me. If you've ever heard a Catholic joke, you've probably heard something about the sit, kneel, stand agenda. Well, let's just say, my grandma can kneel longer than me. I eventually have to give my achy joints a rest in the wooden-backed pew.

But the point here is not that my grandmother is better off athletically than me.

The point, friends, is that today the priest talked about silly bands. (Also, it's reasonable that few American men are willing to give up the luxurious American, sinful lifestyle to be ordained as priest...which leads to many foreign priests in America...which is why I actually kind of like church here...a mere three-hour drive home away, and I've got some guy from Nigeria or something reading the gospel and I just sit in silence out of politeness. I can't possibly understand him. I even asked God once, could you just make me talk in tongues like those other crazeh churches or something, I could at least understand the guy. God didn't think I was funny. The point is. Here, we have a kid fresh out of the seminary, where they study holy stuff, and instead of the thick overseas accent, we have this (almost adorable) bumbling, stuttering man with a bit of facial hair (what is this?!?!), who pauses not for dramatical priesthood effect, but because he can't quite remember the lines because he isn't old enough to have said them enough times yet.))

I'll start a new paragraph since all but one of the previous sentences were in parentheses.

Yes. My ginger priest did mention silly bands today. How important they are to children. He even called one up to show him his silly band, which turned into a kickass sword. He asked to keep it. He was turned down. That's how important they are to children.

And one day, silly bandz won't be all that important to us anymore, we'll find more important things. We'll trade that silly band in for a wedding band, and we won't want to give that up either. Because marriage is so important to us. But we won't be married in heaven. So if you want to be an example now, if you hear the calling into priesthood or...anyways, I paraphrased.

I just wanted to say that the priest talked about silly bandz today.

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You know what. Some people are terrified of dying. Some people are terrified of hell. Some people aren't. And some people aren't because they know they've accepted Jesus into their hearts, and they know where they're going.

I think I'm terrified of Heaven.

Is that weird?

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I'm really looking forward to some good pie, which I hope to start digesting within the next hour. At Stoby's with good people. Stoby's apparently won 2nd in a world cheese dip contest. Some friends and I were wondering who Stoby's went up against. Like, this little old lady and this little young girl.

I don't know, I'm tired.

I'd say I enjoyed that extra hour, but I still got up early. I went to fill my tank before church and dumped out some old french fries while I was at it.

My companions are thankful.

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My step-dad started a couple of tree houses when I was a kid.

The keyword was start.

Promise me that if you promise to build your kid a tree house, you'll finish.

Let's stand up as a generation and not let our kids down. Let's not get too busy, America.


I want to compile a list of things I want to do the rest of this school year. Make me.

But it's pie time. See ya! Keep creepin', San Diego.