Sometimes I wonder if this blog is just a scream into a vacuum. Most people read their friends, but very few people read the ramblings of strangers. Try clicking 'recently updated' on the Blogger front page... you usually end up with a long string of inside jokes and mundane routines. At worst you'll read the things that people are too afraid to tell their friends in person, and the ventings of people who believe self-indulgent entries do more to improve their situation than actual communication. Out of a context of personal knowledge of the author, so many blogs lose their luster. And often times, in the context of blogs, people actually lose luster too. It can go both ways. So what is the purpose of this kind of writing?

One time I clicked the link and came across a gem of a journal. It was by a girl named Kelsey who lives somewhere in New England. She is four years younger than me (a mere sophomore in highschool), but writes with such a powerful voice that I am mesmerized by her imagery and astounded at her ability to speak the truth about living. When I read her, I feel like I am reading the words of someone I know very well. She pours all of herself onto the page. I really can't describe how much I wish I had her command of words and her ability to communicate. If people knew me only through this entry, what would they take away?
It would probably be the distinct impression that I am some kind of creepy person.
Here I am holding a mild fascination with someone I have never met. But, its like I am touching some kind of new art through her. Blogs are different than magazine or news articles. They serve nothing but themselves. But because of their extremely personal nature, they open you up to this whole new kind of relationship. More than whining, more than routine, and much more than my silly commentary, the purpose of writing blogs is best fulfilled in rare finds like Kelsey.
Or, at least, so says I.  ¶ 22:17

Comic is up. Heather is down. Sleeping that is. Have a happy Memorial Day. ^_^  ¶ 00:57

All the pictures for the next comic are drawn. I am going to be bad again skip until Monday since I have family visiting right now.

I bought a cowboy hat at Six Flags. A black one. Felt.
If you know me, you know I hate everything associated with "country" or "redneck" lifestyles. And here I have bought a hat, and for some reason wear it outside.
I started working at a daycare. With one year olds. Diapers.
If you know me, you've heard me say "I hate kids" at least once. (I also had to delete my maternal instinct a few years ago in order to make room for more artistic talent.) And here I am holding these little babies, and for some reason love it.
I switched to Diet Coke, grew out my bangs, gave up on being a famous writer, and started enjoying church again. If you know me, you know I used to cling the opposite of each. And here I am changing my mind again, for some reason. Whatever reason. No reason.
If I read a journal entry dated more than six months ago, I feel like I'm reading someone else's words. I wince at my own sappy, gushing scrawling, and wonder why I ever believed the way I did. People tell me, "You seem like the same old Heather to me". But in truth, I feel no continuity of character. I know I am going to read this and go "Why did I write that gooey mess?" But its like a loop I can't get out of... I write, I question, and then I write about questioning.

Six Flags was great fun, mostly because Lara decided to make a scene on the really wimpy rides. We rode "El Conquistador" (you know, the ship), and as it started swinging, she started screaming and waving her arms in the most hilarious way. She pretended to be absolutely terrified of the entire experience. The entire ship turned around and laughed at her. Then afterwards she was all "Do not laugh. It is rude to laugh at people who are frightened." With her lanky arms, goofy scream, and crisp scolding, she had me tearing up from laughing. You'd really have to see her.

Lori and the cousins are coming into town tomorrow morning. I am so tired so I think I'll hit the hay. Thankfully this daycare job gives me weekends off (YAY!) so all I have to do is make it through tomorrow and its PARTEE TIME!

Also, most people are gone for the summer, so if you'll be spending the break away from Bossier, I just want to say lava to you and safe journeys!  ¶ 21:16

Friday's comic is here. However, Heather is not. Six Flags vacation! Yay!

I think I was going to write about something cool... but no. Bedtime!  ¶ 23:17

Expect the comic up Friday. I am bad for skipping.

What an ending.

Finals were stressful, as usual, but it wasn't my grades that kept me lying awake and staring at the ceiling on Thursday night. It was the knowledge that I would never again spend the night in room 308, and never see so many members of the supporting cast in this play of Houston living. I've realized that my dorm key was the only gold-tinted piece of metal on my keychain. Now, when I search for my car key, I feel like something is missing from the wad of silver in my hand. Something that should be there to catch my eye, but isn't. Soon I'll remove the student ID too, and the red neck laynard. These mundane gestures carry astounding gravity for me. They are the true symbols of my moving on, and make me sadder than packing a box ever could.

Dathan's party was a lot of fun. We danced late into the night; even after everyone else had left the floor, Katie and I kept whirling. She and I made up our own ridiculous line dance. And for the record, John and I performed a stunning rendition of 'Attack Tango' that evening. If you were not a victim of this dance, you missed out.

Dathan was both excited and sad to graduate. I wonder how similar the feeling is to graduating high school... the knowledge that you will see very few of your friends again, paired with the anticipation of an entirely new level of independence. I am definitely feeling sad about leaving, myself. There are so many people I wish I knew better. People I feel a connection to. I am sorry I will no longer have the chance.

I feel so tired right now. I didn't crash until about 5 am last night. And since tomorrow is the first day of my summer, I think I'll celebrate by sleeping in.  ¶ 21:47

Comic up.
I colored Esuna since I've been so bad about skipping lately.  ¶ 21:15

No comic for you! Sorry!

Honestly, its finals week, and I'm just plain tired. I'll make you one for Friday, even though my computer will be disassembled and moving back home by then. But until then I still have a paper and 2 finals to finish, so you can just cut me some slack.

My birthday was quite grand. Blacklight Putt Putt is... Psychedelic. I had a lot of fun, and mini-golf is very interesting with Katie's modified rules ("Okay! On THIS hole, everyone putts between their legs!"). Thanks to those who celebrated with me, I appreciate your presence and your presents.

Wow. I am just so tired. I can hardly finish a post here. I promise I'm not a slacker, I just can't do this right now!
  ¶ 00:09

New comic is up. And if you didn't know it, today is my birthday. Finally 20!

Comics are harder to get done during finals weeks, so if I end up skipping one or two, please forgive me. I'll do my best not to skip any, since it really annoys me when the people I read do that.

I've been on a t-shirt-making binge lately. You can get blank shirts at Goodwill for a dollar each, and I have enough iron-on paper and creativity to start my own fake label. I decided to separate my shirt designs from my artbook and group them into a whole other Projects section, so click the P up at the top to check them out!
I am always appreciative of new shirt ideas!

Today we are going to the Putting Edge to play blacklight putt putt for my birthday. And then maybe pie? Family comes to move my stuff out on Saturday. And in between all of this I'm going to somehow write a paper and study for my anatomy final.

Hope you're doing well on your tests, everyone!  ¶ 21:14

My last reserve comic is up. I guess I'll have to start making more again. ^_^;;;

I had to sign UH's housing agreement by April 30th. If I didn't, I could lose the room. If I signed and cancelled, I could lose $200. It was noon of that day, and I still had no idea where I would be spending the next year. My phonecall was transferred to several different people, when I finally ended up talking to some kind of liaison for the nursing school. She spoke with the vice chancellor of the program, then called me back on my cellphone about 3 hours later. Nothing can describe how hard my heart was beating when I looked down and saw that UT was calling me back.
I honestly believe that I was only admitted because they didn't have the heart to tell me no over the phone. She said to me "Your GPA is below the 3.5 cutoff, but the vice chancellor said he'd go ahead and admit you anyway. Your online status should change sometime this week". And it did change later that night. I was accepted to my first choice major. By the grace of God.
Jeff, of course, freaked out when I told him. He ecstatically IMed just about everyone on his buddy list. Almost, anyway. He took me out to P.F. Changs to celebrate, held my hand and grinned all evening. We stood out under the huge horse statues in the cool evening breeze, my hair was blowing out before me and I thought to myself that this was as wonderful a day and feeling as I have ever known.
Until, of course, a particularly strong gust of wind blew my skirt up over my head. Woosh! I'm almost certain the entire outdoor seating area saw my thonged behind. I know at least one person did. It was a large woman with long curly hair and glasses whose whole mass seemed to be laughing at me. "Huh--ga-huh--ga-huh" she quivered, extra chin shaking. I watched her over Jeff's shoulder, mortified, until we went inside. Jeff said it only happened for a second, nothing to worry about. I actually didn't mind so much. Nothing could bring me down that day.

I am only going to be a Cougar for another 2 weeks. Then that's it. It's over. I'll be a Longhorn from then on out. And as I think about the fact, something surprises me. I am sad.
Sometime during this semester I finally settled in. My bitterness slunk away and happiness began to crawl out of the cracks. I don't think I could have made it through the last four months without the kindness of my friends here. I am genuinely going to miss this place. These people. When did this become a home to me?
Nevertheless I'll be packing it all up this weekend. And I'm ready. Excited, despite that small sadness.

I am so thankful right now. And so very lucky.  ¶ 21:18