So much for Communism...

Oh, the fun things one can do during spring break!
Like, swapping out your cold weather clothes for your warm weather clothes.
And doing an essay demonstrating your financial need in 300 to 500 words.
Then going to (woo and yay) the downtown post office to mail the essay and the application and recommendation letter that go along with it!
And then...drive my 16-year-old car down I-40 to the driver's license testing place to make them change my ID to say that I'm not a minor anymore. Also register to vote. I didn't go in with the intention of registering, it just happened! Crap, I endorsed the government.
Finally, I picked up some supplies for the Calculus project. Woo, posterboard.
I think I'll make lasagna tomorrow. Mmmmmmm...
No more prophetic dreams, alas.
There are pineapple chunks and other nice things to eat in the kitchen!

Is she babbling again?

Good morning. It is the second day of spring break for the public school system (woo and yay!), and I need to blog before I forget what happened since Thursday.
I got some financial aid information from Clemson. One of the things they said I qualified for was a loan, and although it wasn't an uber-ridiculous amount, there was still a pretty good chunk of tuition that my parents would have to pay right away, so...
Mississippi State University, you win!
Nathan will be pleased, and the sorority girls won't have to send me so many postcards. They'll be able to attack me on campus.
And that was Thursday.
Yesterday I slept until 11 (ahhhh...) and gave the dogs a bath. The only complication was the horrible state of the garden hose. Let's just say it was tangled in jasmine vines and itself on the funky reel thing...
But the dogs are cleaner than they were. And fluffy.
Last night I went to West Jackson to hear my old band and a couple more. Mark Akin was there, and when anyone who'd seen the band last year asked why he wasn't on stage, he told them he'd been replaced without any notice. Which is pretty much true. Plus he could never make it to practice or he had to leave early. And they just stopped talking to me for the most part. Didn't even bother to get another singer to take my place. Bah.
Let's talk about the fuel situation. With my handy Kroger Plus discount, I was paying $2.199 for a gallon of gas. This is insane, and I don't want to know how high it'll go during the summer. But since I don't have to drive eight hours to Clemson, my budget won't be completely shot on travel.
Enough of that. For those of you who like to hear about my infrequent (but quite vivid) dreams, I had one this morning.
Part one: Marriage is what brings us together today...
Do I get married in a church? No, that would make sense! I get married in the main building of the Jackson Fairgrounds, or something very similar. Fortunately it wasn't during the flea market or a livestock show. I could see some of my friends, relatives, and neighbors sitting in some chairs that had been set up on one side. I'm still 18, by the way.
Ladies, I wish you could've seen the guy I was marrying. Impressive, I must say. Tall (like, my head barely came to his shoulder), dark hair, kinda like Joaquin Phoenix, actually.
So we do the whole getting married bit, which ends this chapter.
Part two: Later that day...
Okay, since part one was the wedding, you know where part two has got to go. Mm hmm, the requisite consumation of the marriage. Yes, Jenn, I had a sex dream. Nice. For a long time it was just sex. Nothing kinky, though, so don't go hysterical on me. Here comes the twist. We finish doing our thing and he leaves the room for a few minutes. And during these few minutes I'm thinking about what I'll change my name to. Dilemma: I can't remember his name! Either I'd never heard it (don't ask how this is possible, it's my unconcious mind's work) or I'd forgotten. I didn't even know his first name, but I managed to fake my way along until later, when I heard one of his friends call him Jack.
Interlude: We're out together, just walking around, when we run into Brandon and Nicole. Brandon is a skinny black guy who works at Sears. Really. Not in the dream, in real life. But anyway, they were at the wedding, and Brandon decides he's gonna have a little fun with Jack (hopefully not too much, because Jack's a muscley guy and Brandon wouldn't stand a chance if he got fed up) and Nicole starts talking with me about God know's what. Really, this part doesn't go anywhere.
Part last: A visit with the family.
Somehow, in the grand scheme of things, I obtain two more younger siblings. Maybe three. No idea what's up with that, but I express my relief that I no longer live with my parents, so all the babysitting falls on Emily and Martin. Mwahahaha!
Byebye.

Later, after careful analysis...
This dream seems to center around college.
Weddings symbolize new beginnings. Makes sense.
The guy is of intimidating size (I'll be at a large school) but I'm completely comfortable with him. My interactions so far with the MSU crew have all been pretty good, so I'll probably get along okay there.
Not knowing the guy's name at all indicates some sort of mental burden - such as waiting around to figure out where I'll be going to college - and hearing his name indicates part of that burden being lifted. By the time I got my final scholarship and financial aid figures, Mississippi was the obvious choice.
Sex represents sex, no matter who you ask.
So what this all boils down to is this: Sometimes we find ourselves in situations we wouldn't have chosen under normal circumstances, but even unknown or unfamiliar situations can turn out good.
Like ending up with a nice-looking farm-boy type. You know what they say, big foot, big ... shoe.

"One thing I do know, them PENGUINS, they's some funny lookin' birds."

Hello from after my final spring concert. Parking was interesting, as the NAIA tournament was going on at the exact same time as the concert. I parked in the ghetto and walked. Fortunately, the first major storm cell had passed, and I don't think it did much more...
Did I update on the current figures from Mississippi? I don't think so, but if I did, ignore the following few lines.
'K, in addition to the $5000 a year, out of state tuition waiver, and the free housing, I've also received $1500 for study abroad, internships, or some other educational fling. Which brings our total over four years to $52,300. Wow. Big money. And I can't even throw a football straight. :)
So yay. The concert didn't bomb, I wasn't mugged, my car needs brake fluid, and I've got somewhere to go to school.
Also Adrian Jones was there tonight :D
And *gasp* I'm still wearing makeup.
Please pick your jaw up off the floor. Thank you.
Good night.

"Uno, dos, tres, catorce...the right math for rock 'n' roll."

Yo.
Well, as some or all of you now know, I've heard from Washington University and I've been waitlisted along with Katie Freeman. Translation: you're okay, but these other kids were better, so you're not rejected, we're just waiting to see if they decide to come here or not. We'll notify you if they bail.
So basically I'm holding out to see if someone who was accepted into the architecture department dies or goes somewhere else. And should one of the two happen, the financial aid thing comes into play again. No money, no go.
And how long might I be waiting? June 30. I'm sorry, but if it takes that long, I will have already declared Mississippi State (who have been quite generous with their money despite being the big sports school) or Clemson (who have a good chance of pulling their way back to the #1 spot, since they're a 4+2 program and I haven't gotten their financial aid information yet).
I've been pulling 2:30 to 4:00 rehearsals since Wednesday. One more tomorrow (might go to 5:00). Gonna run through the whole concert twice with all the components.
If I haven't filled the rant quotient yet, here's something else. I got word today that the administration has cut the number of tickets to our graduation in half. They previously told us twelve, so I got my list together to accommodate their first figure. No problem. Now we're only allowed six. That just covers my mom and dad, brothers, and grandparents. Emily might be playing in the band and not need a ticket. But yeah, some parents are already ticked off and will have a stern talk with Mr. Allen.
I'm afraid the stupid people are taking over the world.

Monkeys should never be forced to wear undershorts!

Hello, faithful readers! Friday was packed to the gills with all sorts of reportable stuff. I know that makes you very happy.
First, Superintendent Roy Weaver announced that there would be a change of principles at JCM, Andrew Jackson, and Parkview Montessori. The switch was originally intended to take effect Monday. Bad idea, Roy. This incited a protest at JCM and plans were being made by the parents of Andrew Jackson for one today. However, after hearing about the can of stink he'd opened, he made another announcement, stating that the principals would remain at their current schools until the end of this year. Dodging enough bullets like that may promote weight loss.
Two, the members of the ECC youth group began mourning the loss of their friend Sarah Beth Whitehead. It seems my sister also knew her, so she wasn't in the best mood, either. The first case of Meningitis in the Jackson area in seven years.
Three, choral festival. Our crisis was the situation with many of the men's uniforms. Vests were too tight, pants were too big, buttons popping off everywhere. However, we made straight ones for our performances, and the mixed, women's, and madrigal groups made ones in sight reading. The men made a three. They suck when they don't have us. But we were the only group there, so we all warmed up at the same time, performed one after the other, and then went to sight reading. Heh, Helen's car was covered in some celebratory window paint. :)
And then to Adri's party! Too much fun. High school students playing musical chairs (shh! Those chairs don't exist.), pin the eyepatch on Johnny Depp, the Lifesaver game, hide and seek, and going on a scavenger hunt AND a candy hunt. Violent. I got nailed in the nose by a flying Kiss. It's kinda sore. I hope this doesn't result in some weird sinus/nasal disorder. :P Oy, and after we got tired of running around like little kids, we sat around in the den and told of our strange and amusing misadventures and the lore of the schools. Woot. I crashed almost immediately after the rest of the guys left.
So yeah. That's all.

A single-worded poem comprised of four letters.

Well, as I have absolutely no idea when I last updated (I could look, but who wants to take the time to do that?) I'll just throw down whatever information I deem throw-downable.
Point first: Mississippi State. I'm in the architecture program, the honors program, and I have tuition and probably housing taken care of. Basically it's a free ride, which is amazing since I'm not an athlete and I didn't even think about auditioning for the choral program, which would bring in more money given my credentials. Should I end up going there (i.e. if Clemson and Wash U don't put out after we tell them about this full ride business) I'll be spending a couple of days down there early this summer.
Nextly: Prom dress is paid for and on the alterations list. Should have it in my posession in about a week. Happiness!
Pertaining somewhat to the previous point: After we shut down at the flea market last night, Whit, Jenn and I went to Bubba's where we saw Dustin (who is not *gasp* a Christian ethics major at Union) and talked about prom crap. As it stands, on paper I'll be either Greg or Jenn's date, but I'm really there with Taylor. There is an understanding that if he doesn't make inappropriate comments or gestures I won't hit him in the face.
Also: Whee for Jenn and Whit selling four pictures today! The trend seems to be toward farm and garden implements and religious icons. The man selling movie paraphanalia in the booth across the aisle has been very nice. Let them borrow a chair and some tablecloths. I'll buy a couple of his photographs tomorrow for my mom. She's a big fan of Clint Eastwood and John Wayne.
Away I go to work on some of my infernal homework.