Catherine

I took enlish 201 first semester of my freshman year. It's one of 2 or 3 classes that I've actually really enjoyed during my career at ISU. We read lots of different stories and novels. One of my favorite things we covered was microfiction, which is a contest where the writer is limited to 200 words or less. They took the best stories that were submitted over the years and put them in a book, which, I didn't sell back if anyone wants to read it. I was looking through it again and found one of my favorite stories. It amazed me how in a class of 150 people we could really get a discussion going and dig so much meaning out of such short works. This one wasn't my favorite discussion, but I like the idea of the story. Your Fears are Justified By: Rick DeMarinis There's a bomb on this plane. I offer no proof. And yet I know. Panic constricts my breathing. My heart can be heard. I'm sure of that. It ticks in my ear like an egg timer. I get out of the seat slowly so as not to alarm the others. In the restroom I splash my face with cold water. The bomb is with the cargo. We're approaching Clinic City. The plane touches down. The bomb, though armed, does not explode. In the Clinic City hospital I have to share a room with a heart patient. "What are you here for?" he asks. "Brain tumor," I say. He perks up, interested. "How's your ticker?" he says. His wife, large and phlegmatic, visits twice a day. They whisper. "You're terminal?" she asks, coyly. It's as if she's asked me about the weather in Des Moines. "Not that I know of." I say. "Brain tumor," her husband whispers, nudging her. They exchange loving glances. I know that they are thinking. It's clear: They want my heart. "Macroadenoma," I say. "Nonmalignant." They wink at each other. She consoles me with a ladyfinger. After the operation I fly home, weak but still sensitive to threats. I appreciate your interest. I honor your adrenalized stare. Your fears are justified. I'm sorry. I will sit here in my living room and decide what to tell you. Yes, there is no hope. But remember, some fuses are duds, some tumors are benign, some heart patients recover on their own. You have time to change your life.

Go see this movie. Seriously.

I was going to do a post, but all I can say is.

The semester from hell is over.
Burt is home.
Life is good.

So the beautiful Alicia Pearson just called me, the conversation went a bit like this: Alicia: So I have a question for you. Me: Ok, what's up? Alicia: What are your plans for this summer? Me: Just taking summer classes and stuff. Alicia: What about Memorial Day? Me: Well I know we don't have class that day and stuff. Alicia: Well we moved the wedding up to Memorial Day. Me: WOAH! THAT'S SO EXCITING! THAT'S SO SOON, AHHHH! Alicia: *sigh* I was going to take all you guys out for dinner and everything, but I wanted to know if you would want to be a bridesmaid. Me: ARE YOU SERIOUS? (at this point I started crying, yes I am pathetic) Alicia: Yeah...*giggle* Me: YES! Of course! AHHHH I'm so excited. Oh man, you made me cry. Awww... :)

I check the Postsecret website every Sunday, that's when Frank posts new secrets for the week. Postsecret is becoming a bit of an obsession, I save them on my computer. Funny ones, quirky ones, creative ones or ones that make me cry.

Last week this secret was posted.



I don't know if i was just in an emotional mood, but it made me burst into tears. Because, it's similar to one of my secrets, which, in a few moments will no longer be a secret of mine.

I call my Gramma's house when I know Gramma isn't home, just to hear Papa say, "Hello..." on the answering machine and I can pretend that he's talking to me again.