I hadn't seen the sunrise in months until this morning.  The sky looked as if it was on fire.  Colors that none could have fathomed spread out against the sky as vibrant rays.  I couldn't keep my eyes from straying upon the beauty of the sky.  so many mornings out of the week I sacrifice the sunrise for slumber.  I awake to a glorious sun, or a foggy day.  This semester particularly, I've truly began to believe that weather can affect one's spirits in a very impactful way.  It makes me miss the Carolina sky that I've grown to love so deeply since being away.  Each time we cross back into Tennessee a sadness always arises within me as I come to terms with the separation.  Carolina is my home.  James Taylor got it right, "In my mind I'm going to Carolina."

I've been thinking a lot about home lately...especially with trying to figure out my SIP topic.  Thank goodness for the classes on memoir.  They have opened up my mind to the wonders of a story...my story.  So here's what I have so far... 

Tentative Topic

            I’d like to engage in the concept of “home” and how growing up in a small-town has shaped and influenced my perceptions on life, and people.  My idea is to write a creative non-fictional work by writing a series of letters (22 letters to be exact) to a family that just moved in next door to my home in Morganton, North Carolina.  Each letter will include a location, or a unique aspect found in Morganton that holds a special place in my memory.  The letters will be addressed to “The New Neighbors Next Door.”  There will be some letters for the children and for the adults—maybe even the family dog.  With each letter I desire to dig deeply into the intrinsic meaning of “home.”

One Foreign Language class assignment.  Two partners.  Three hours of disastrous implications. 

It was a normal morning in Spanish class when I rested my old book bag upon my plastic desk chair.  My teacher, whose name is literally un-spellible, waltzed into the classroom with her lunch in toe.  She always ate when she taught.  Class would begin with one or more announcements that I could never understand sadly.  Textbooks would open, and we would sluggishly complete an exercise we were bound to never remember.  During this time my teacher  would smack open and closed in a rhythmical manner as she consumed her lunch.  On one specific morning we discovered in the syllabus we were to complete some kind of oral assignment in the next coming days.  “What?  Why?  When?  Where?” echoed out of everyone’s mouth.   The only words I could speak in Spanish thus far sounded more like Pig-Latin.  My eyes began to water, my stomach lurched, and my little toe began to twitch.  The class ended half an hour early, which wasn’t abnormal, and I sheepishly walked up to her desk.  The remnants of her lunch resembled my pet dog’s lunch, and I slowly swallowed a gag.  After not noticing me for a few seconds, she looked up surprisingly.  Poor lass.  She was probably trying to remember my name.  “Yes,” she said slowly with her own native accent.  What was I to say?  I can only imagine what would happen if I blurted out, “I don’t think I should complete this assignment due to the fact my ability to speak Spanish could be characterized as a dog trying to speak English,” or my personal favorite excuse, “I’m planning on being sick this week.”   Three minutes later I grabbed my old book bag, and slumped it on my back.  I walked out of the classroom with all of the dignity I could muster.  The assignment was to happen whether my dog magically began to speak English, or I actually became sick.

There was a fellow student who attached herself to my side once she realized, early on, that I was dud.  She must have been in the same boat.  Her southern draw made the word “gracious” sound like “grass-is-us.”  She was sweet tempered, never frowned, and always had a bottle of Mountain Dew on hand.  The one shining glint of this assignment was the prospect of having a partner.  I planned on asking the super-star Spanish speaker to partner with me promising he or she my inheritance.  I was instead cornered by the girl with the Mountain Dew who had freckles that  shined under the florescent lighting of the shabby classroom.   I didn’t want to be the first person on the planet to make her frown, so I agreed to partner with her. 

“Let’s give em a speech on bakin cookies!” she exclaimed.  I breathed deeply.  I was loco. 

I'm currently taking a linguistics class where we are diving in to the most interesting world of speech.  Our professor told the class of this man who could speak 500 in a minute.  I guess if I tried quite hard I could master that--to bad it would  take more than a billion years.  Whenever I get excited or talkative I tend to slur my words as I hurriedly try to expound upon what I'm trying to say. 

I haven't watched the Youtube video yet, but I imagine that it is crazy strange.  I guess that was my random fact for the day?

Anyways, today was good. I have been scrambling to finish this annotative bibliography which is on Edmund Spenser's Faerie Queene.  Thank goodnes for JSTOR.  It is an English majors best friend when looking for solid info on a specific topic.  I'm stopping now to get on this journaling!

I'm now intrigued...what is a college students best friend?
1) Sweatpants
2) Small sized deodorant to keep locked away in one's backpack. 
3) Advil
4) A PC not a MAC.  They're overrated.  
5) JOSTOR
6) Salad
7) Pepto Bismal
8) Cover up for those dark circles you've never seen under your     eyes...EVER.
9) Some kind of hydration
10)Hugs

That's only scratching the surface....

One of the more meaningful things that I have come to cherish is time in an actual house.  I love the dorm life, but there's just something of a homey atmosphere that truly feeds my soul.  Maybe it's the hospitality, or the friendliness that a home usually exudes.  I guess it could also be the kitchen.  Homemade food is a gift.  I'm not complaining.  Our cafeteria isn't terrible, but a meal around a dining room table is the bees knees.  I'm still relishing in the afternoon I spent today in a home.  Makes me miss my own!

My life is filled with many humorous moments.  I don't live a day where I don't have a humbling moment.  I'm thankful for those moments that fill my heart with gladness knowing that I can just be myself.  I can't wait to tell my children one day of our how their mommy embarrassed herself numerous times when I feel like this guy:


So, while studying in our commons, I came into my room that was filled with giggly roommates.  They had formed the idea of going on a hall-date with the guys of our choice.  Red flag.  

For those who know me well, its not in my general genetic makeup to ask guys on dates.  I start feeling queasy, and run away.  

So, I had to ask someone. I thought of one and decided to be brave and ask!  

Well, I did more than ask.  It was pretty crazy.  Driving back from church we were dropping my guys roommate off, so my friend said, "Hey, Bethany, ask your guy now.  It's perfect!"  My stomach felt instantly sick.  What?  Heck no.  I can't.  Oh, but I did.  They pushed me out of the car, and I walked into their apartment like a freak. What I didn't anticipate was asking him in front of ten boys. What the heck?  I started shaking in my boots, and belted out, "Will you go with me to our hall-date."  He was shocked.  I was shocked.  One of his friends did a fist pump in the air, "YES."  The other guys looked not so impressed. 

He was searching for words...I was searching for words.  Poor guy.  He said YES!  I forgot to tell him so many things...like the details of the whole adventure.  We all died laughing in the car.  I felt extremely empowered. 

I tried to not look for him the days following.  I prayed it wouldn't be awkward.  He walked up to me in the library, and it was perfect....oh the joys of being a college student.  

This was an e-mail I sent out for a hall-date my friends and I were going to put together.  I love writing e-mails.  The e-mail was entitled: "S.S.F.T.F.E.A.T.B": 

So, what the heck does S.S.F.T.F.E.A.T.B. mean?  I guess it could mean a lot of things, but for you people it stands for: Super Saturday Fun Time For Everyone And Their Mother. At this points guys (not girls) you've been asked on a "hall-date thing" in very creative ways for this coming Saturday--which is actually tomorrow, surprise.  Speaking on the girl's behalf (corny sentence ALERT), we're excited to be sharing this night with you gentlemen. 

We all know that Chattanooga is full of many joys, one being that it is the P.P.F.I.C.F...Perfect Place for Ice-Cream Freaks.  This being the case, the night will begin with a stop at the delectable Sweet CeCe's located in North Shore...this is probably unnecessary information because Sweet CeCe's is famous, and you already know about it.  The goal is to be there at 6:30--which I'm sure won't be a big issue. (Hopefully our group of 24 will fit into Sweet CeCe's.  If not we'll make a line in alphabetical order...yeah right)

Expect to be as happy as this little boy once leaving this Nooga treasure:


The night won't end there people.  From there we will make the journey over the cool bridge to The Camp House.  If you don't have any idea what The Camp House is its: 
1) As cool as this hipster kid

2)It's frequently visited by celebrities.  BIG NEWS: Tay-Tay and Harry broke up recently--I guess he knew she was trouble...oh gosh.  

3) Oh yeah...they have concerts and coffee there too!  Tomorrow night, certain students are playing in a college band night starting @ 7:30 pm.  Bands like:

(We're not sure when the concert will be over, but we don't anticipate to be out past 4:00 am)  

With so many cool people going, we're gonna need some form of transportation...preferably a vehicle with four wheels and a two airbags.  That being sad, who would be willing to drive?  

So, here's a recap:

1) Let's meet in MAC circle around 6:15 pm...not 6:16 pm.

2) Our adventures will take us to Sweet CeCe's and The Camp House--GET PUMPED

3) We need drivers like the desert needs the rain

4) Taylor Swift recently broke up with Harry Styles

5) Everyone's going to COSMAC tonight right?

6) Jesus loves you.

Busted lip.  Blood.  Why was there so much blood?  After colliding with another girl on the basketball court, I knew nothing good would come of it.  I instantly covered my mouth as if I was trying to keep a secret closed deeply within.  As I drew my hand away for a split second, I saw the red on my hand.  I only imagined the horrors that awaited me in the mirror as I would reveal the wound. 

Walking off the court, trying not to draw too much attention to the fact that I was probably going to bleed to death, my teammates looked at me quizzically.  Our team captain was running in as she saw me looking a little worried.  "Are you okay," I saw her mouth.  There wasn't any time time to stop so I grabbed a workstudy guy, and he walked with me to the closest first-aid kit in the gym.  As we walked he was giving me pointers on how to fix it, but I'm pretty sure he had no idea what he was talking about.  I tried to tell him while walking that I needed to apply pressure to the wound so to stop the bleeding.  It came out sounding like, "Imh hneed a blurag."  He looked at me like I was crazy.  "I need a rag!"  I said a bit more loudly.  At that point he say the blood running down my chin.  "Oh yeah you do," he said looking grossed out.  I stumbled around people, trying again not to draw attention to the fact I was a mess.  I didn't cry though--which is my one claim to fame.  

Sweet girls stopped me horrified that I wasn't okay.  There faces reminded me of a look one may give to monster they've discovered in their closest.  Great.  

I hurried along, and followed the incompetent boy into the room that held the first-aid kit.  I just needed a rag or something.  Pronto.  After getting a few of these, I went into the bathroom hoping I wouldn't find my lip missing or a broken tooth. "Please God," I prayed.  

I took my hand away slowly, and closed one eye.  I first noticed how ghastly my hair looked.  Dang.  I had walked by more than fifty students with my hair looking crazy, and with blood on my face.  I then looked slowly down to my lower lip.  What I saw surprised me.  It was only a tiny cute.  My two front teeth had laid into my lip in a swift motion making the cut look like two separate cuts. 

The worst part was my  jaw.  It ached.  I washed away the blood, and looked a little more closer.  The cut wasn't too bad, and I would survive.  Good news. 

I walked back over to the game with the rag in my mouth.  I had re-fixed my hair into two braids, and washed my face one more time.  The head of the gym walked over to me making sure stitches weren't needed.  I looked at him bravely recounting the fact that I didn't think it was too bad.  I wanted to go back in the game proving I could handle it.  I ran back in, but as I ran up and down the court the air began to make my lip sting.  Ouch!

I called quite loudly for a sub.  I got one.  End of story.

So, I am from small-town America.  I like picnics in the same spot, ordering my favorites at the restaurant down the street, seeing people I know everywhere, the accent, the potato-salad, the sweet tea that is never too sweet, and I guess everything.  I've never minded that the movies always come late to the theater, that the traffic is slower, that the people are older, that the old chicken factory is still open, that the intense-smoke-smelling Wal-Mart is still way to busy, and that I always get homesick when leaving.  I guess I'll never stop getting homesick after a dream of a visit.  It nourishes my soul.  Don't get me wrong, college is a dream in itself.  I love my school.  The adventures, people, classes, campus are all endearing, and close to my heart.  However, I have ultimately been shaped by my small-town roots.  I can't but long for the mountains, the familiarity, and the safeness.  Growing up is a hard thing to experience.  No one tells us how complicated life becomes as we say goodbye to the small-town of our child-like minds into the metropolis of  our adult brains.

I'll be sitting in class at certain times in the day, and just day-dream about the experiences of my life.  During Christmas break I walked back into our woods just for the reminder of the lush beauty it brought into my life all those years.  I loved going fishing for crawdads.  My mom would always yell for us to come to the house.  My brothers and I would race back to see who would get into the kitchen first.  Oh what fond memories I have of that place.