and she breathed in freedom before daylight tread

Number aversion: hating to have things that end in 3, 7, or 9. Since there are currently 23 posts on my blog, I have to post again to make it a nice round 24 (that's one of my favorite numbers, anyway). I currently have 228 Facebook friends. If I add another friend, I'd better add another one so I'm not stuck at an ugly 229.

So that's the reason for this post. I don't really have anything to say.

I was in a really good mood all last week, but now that it's this week I'm starting to feel a bit apprehensive. If the scans they're having me do next week don't look good, does that mean I have to go back to chemo? I don't want to! I hope that they're just routine. I hope that they find that my heart is still good, my lungs are clear, and I don't have any undue sugar-stealing entities.

Pretty sure I'll be fine.


This weekend I went to three receptions in three days. (Sorry for anyone that's heard that already.) It has put me in kind of a wedding-minded mode. I've never really thought much about my wedding before, having decided a few years ago that a big fuss is silly. My cousin's reception, about which a big fuss was made, was amazing. But it's not ever something I'd want to do. But I'm not sure I'd want a traditional one either -- cultural hall, refreshments by the Relief Society, receiving line under the basketball hoop.

So it's been interesting for me to start thinking about my wedding, since it is sometime in the future. I've thought about colors, decorations, time of year, location, all that jazz. I feel weird.

I suppose it hasn't helped that, since I'm all done with chemo forever, I can stop being an invalid -- and I haven't yet. I'm all crazy-like.


And another bird just hit our window. That's the second one today. Said Spencer: "They die just like people. They hit their head and ... and ... then ... then blood comes out their mouth."


Well, I think I have a life to start living! See ya on the flipside!

"St Stephen's Cross" ~ Vienna Teng

dreams of ice and wings. so delicate, these things.

Thursday evening, I was in the family room hanging out or something, and Kiana came in crying. Since this is in no way an unusual occurrence, it was much more interesting what she said: "Dad's gonna kill a bird."

Since this isn't a usual occurrence, we were all a little nonplussed. Turns out a little bird hit the living room window where Kiana was reading, and was on the ground all skewampus. Mom and Dad were worried it'd broken its back, or its neck, and of course the kindest thing to do would be to put it out of its misery.

Mom brought it in for us to look at. Its wings were fluttering in panic as she held it gently in her cupped hands. We all looked at it. It was crooked. But as we watched, it did better and better until it looked like a normal little bird. So instead of taking it to the executioner, Mom put it outside. Where it sat. And flew around to the patio.

The bird was still there when it got dark, and to save it from any hungry cats that might be around, we put together a little shoebox for it, with water and bread, next to the open window.

It was still there in the morning, but looked all right. It liked to fly down to the carpet and hang out there, and Friday morning while we were supposed to be getting ready to go to the Rytting Family Reunion, we all gathered around and watched it. Copious pictures were taken. The little bird was stroked, picked up, and fussed over. Kiana even picked two raspberries for it, after looking it up (an orange-crest warbler) and seeing that it only ate bugs and berries.

Then we had to go. We left it on the carpet (spreading a dishtowel first) with water and the berries. Occasionally while hanging out with cousins and the like, we would wonder if it was okay.

But we all knew what we'd find when we got home.

It had folded its wings neatly, closed its eyes, and gone to sleep. When its deep muscles stopped working to keep it upright, it had tipped slightly forward onto the carpet. Dad, Mom, and I were the only ones to look. I didn't think it was sad -- its leg was broken, and I think that would be enough pain to put any small creature out before too long. It looked peaceful, and it had drunk some water and nibbled at some berry, so I might go so far as to say it had been well cared for.

I think Kiana still cried.

"Now Three" ~ Vienna Teng

(You may or may not have noticed that I have used this title before. I thought it fit this one better than the other, so I have adjusted that one's title.)

such a wide, wide chasm of faith to leap

I remember back in February, this blog was slated to become my cancer update blog. I was having all these medical experiences I'd never had before (really: who's had a PET scan?) and wanted to talk about it. But then I was too lazy, so it got wiped off that slate.

And really, I don't talk about it that often. Sometimes it's nice to pretend that it's not the only cool thing about me. (I was going to say "Requisite sneaky complaint: check." But then I remembered what this post's probably going to be about. So there's more where that came from.) However, the sad truth is, it's pretty much my entire life right now. And that's what we do in blogs. The boring ones, at least. Talk about our lives.

So, here ya go. A bunch of random stuff about my life now, as it pertains to my treatment.

~I'd spent my entire life thinking I was A+ blood type. Come time for my first transfusion (I've had 7 now -- donate blood!!) we found out I'm actually O+. Who knew?

~I am a master of finding my drinking glass at night. We recently bought these silly clear cups, so that makes them pretty much invisible in the dark. To me, at least, since I've never met anyone with worse eyesight. (Still one of my points of pride!) But somehow, I've never spilled. My hand just magically knows where to go. I'm going to jinx it, huh.

~Every conceivable part of me has lost weight. I finally dropped below 100 lbs, and I practically had a tantrum there on the scale. I'm talking my ears have probably lost weight and everything.

~My hair's coming out again. When I was at the hospital over the weekend, I kept getting eyelashes and eyebrows all over my glasses. And I have bald patches on my head, but that's mainly because I keep pulling it...this is hard to explain to people. Some few of my acquaintance had the opportunity to pull it out when it was longer than 1/3 inch, and they'd understand. It's addicting. And I'm okay with my hair being different lengths of that much.

~I got a lot of weird side-effects from chemo that nobody at the hospital had ever heard of. I got these peculiar brown stripes on my stomach, and a similarly styled image of a bandaid on my arm, and my elbows are really dark. Plus sometimes my feet burn off. No one ever told us about that. Even the side effects that I'm supposed to get, like mouth sores, come in weird. My jaw swells up. They all look at me like I'm an alien. My body's amazing!

~No, really, my body's amazing. You take things for granted, like an awesome heart and lungs -- which I hope to still have when this is over. And the way my surgery site healed up so awesome (except for that one little part -- c'mon bug, I wanna be able to submerge my leg). All these things I can't take credit for.

~I hate talking about my hospital experiences, because it makes me nauseous. Usually right before and right after, but why risk it?

~I think the ice cream truck just drove by. We didn't have one of those when I was a kid. Did it seriously come up our street? It must be lost. Um...there's a kid sitting in the back. Should I be concerned?

~Okay, so, my siblings? They think my walking assistance devices are so fun. Whenever I'm lounging about (which, let's face it, happens a lot more often than anything else) they'll pick them up and play with them. And ... sometimes leave them far away. Not on purpose, I believe.

~By the way...anonymous gifts/letters are really annoying. I wish I hadn't been so busy in March, or I would've done some serious handwriting analysis.

~Can't remember if I've said much about my tattoos. Well, there's not much to tell, besides the pain worse than a bee sting to get them. And that I have 'em.

~Guys, once my radiation burn healed up, it's been so fun! It's like a constantly peeling sunburn, without hurting. I wonder if it would look so very tan if I weren't so "constantly inside" complexioned right now.

~Right below my left collarbone is my port. It is the cyborg machinery they inserted inside me in order to pump me full of poison. And blood, when the need arises. It is a little metal disk just under the skin. Back when it was cold, and I would shiver, my port would totally shiver too, and spasm, and feel like it was trying to jump back out. Slightly creepy? Luckily I think it's grown to my ... whatever innards are right there and I only have to worry when I get hugged really tightly and it pops out of alignment. Which doesn't do anything, except for a while I have a crooked metal disk sticking up instead of a flat one. If they needed to poke me (you access it with a needle, of course) they could do it just fine.

~Oh yeah, I'm glad I was never afraid of needles. Do I love getting shots and blood draws twice a week? No, but I don't freak out. Especially not now. My arm veins are a little bit hashed, but I don't have to do it much longer!

~Everyone keeps accusing me of getting my nails done. Never! I just happened to get a really opaque white stripe one round and it's finally grown up to the top. And I don't think I would be pleased if I did get my nails done and they looked like that. Pretty sure they can make them look better than that...

~Sometimes I act really pathetic. But I feel like there's really just one thing that I'm consistently pathetic about, and it's something that was going on way before I was diagnosed. And, er, I'm too embarrassed about it to admit what it is. *wince*


On that note, which wandered off the Wonders of Cancer Treatment and onto paths that will remain untrodden on this blog, let's end. This is more than enough, though I'm sure if I left it for another day I'd come up with some more.

Have a great day, everyone!


"Soon Love Soon" ~ Vienna Teng


[P.S.: I had a typically hard time finding a good subject line for this post. My first choice has already been used! But luckily before I found that out I'd already found a bunch of possibilities. Here are the runners-up, since I'm unlikely to use them for any other post.

blind, only my hands to guide me ~ now three
i'll tap into your strength and drain it dry - my medea

And now you see why!]

we dance through the colors both followed and led

Last night my beautiful Silvey returned to me, in marvelous condition. My pop's technician not only fixed the snapped-off screen, but cleaned off the keyboard/fan/screen/everything I'd been too lazy to take care of, AND gave me some more memory. So I'm one blissfully happy camper, and I don't know if I want to get a new computer at the end of the summer yet.

That's not terribly relevant, but I am pleased.

Today, I think I want to talk about ... dancing.

Dancing? Really? Okay, random topic generator inside my brain, if you say so.

Sometimes, I get told something and, no matter what I was told before or told after, I do that for the rest of my life. For example, in 9th grade my Advanced Chorus teacher Mr. Elpus told us that the proper singing posture was to sit with one leg tucked underneath you and the other flat on the floor. Since then, when sitting up straight in preparation to sing, I have always put my leg that way, even if the accepted posture in that choir class was different.

Similarly, when I finally learned in my Social Dance class that my hand goes on the fella's upper arm instead of on his shoulder, that was the end of stake-dance-accepted dancing for life. I dance, I put my hand on his upper arm. You know, at that one muscle. At least, that's what I think my natural inclination is. I just realized, I haven't danced with anyone for two years.

Are. You. Serious.

Two years?? Well. Uh.

That's embarrassing.

Unfortunately, I'm not likely to be dancing with anyone anytime soon, either. (Yes! A very subtle and sneaky complaint about my singleness!) That's not a subtle (or even sneaky) complaint about my singleness (whatever the parentheses say) -- though it could be construed as a complaint about not being able to walk or dance at all...

But hey. I guess that's something to look forward to in future, though, right? I mean, if nothing else I'll conform to local tradition and have a nice little dance with my husband at our reception. Then I can test out my hypothesis that I don't put my hand on people's shoulders.

Which is weird. Does anyone know why we're supposed to put our hand on that one muscle rather than their shoulder?

Anyway, still can't get over the fact that I haven't been cool enough to get asked to dance for so long. Ah, March 20, I might've enjoyed you.

I love dancing. :) I'm so excited to bust a move (with or without a partner[1]) when I'm no longer in danger of busting a leg.

That may be it for me tonight! Have a great day.

"Eric's Song" ~ Vienna Teng


[1] Okay, I realize that it is the opinion of some few that the group dancing phenomenon is another example of society's depravity (Kyra, that word was for you) and should be discouraged at all occasions of class (I'm paraphrasing and extrapolating here, but I'm not too worried about ramifications); however, I am still classless enough to really enjoy it, if the music is acceptable.

gotta leave gotta bleed, you've gotta stop lying still 'cause this is no kind of life

There are so many amazing -- hold on, it's impossible to blog with one hand...there we go -- Vienna Teng lyrics in the world (especially with a new album, whose lyrics I have yet to plumb much). But I have had such a hard time thinking of apt ones for my posts. So sad.

I'll work on that.


Thursday was a bad day. What with waking up as the "grumpy chipmunk girl," Lupron shot (2-inch needle, not even joking), blood draw, being in such a hurry to grab the basin and toss my cookies that I knocked over my hot chocolate all over the carpet, having another blood draw, and not having any immune system at all (and most of this happened before noon), I was really unfortunate.

But there were some notable good things about this day! So I'm going to talk about those.

(Oh, but first, I also had physical therapy Thursday morning. And to think I used to love Thursdays!)

My mother decided she'd put the video entitled "Leslie Toddling" on DVD, and I was in charge of the chapter breaks. So I got to vaguely pay attention to myself as an especially cute baby (complete with blond curls) for a few hours.

I was talking to my friend Jonathan and found out something pretty cool. Um, about an anagram that really will interest no one else besides me, but I reacted very much resembling "That's clever. I wish my family was that clever." The end. Well, I counted it as a good thing that happened, in that morning of really unfortunate occurrences.

And my friend Kristie came to visit! She listened patiently to all my medical stories (it is unfortunate, but I really don't have a whole lot else to talk about). And she gave me a book. I did miss Fetch because of it, but that's okay.

...That's about all I can remember. Besides the obvious I continued breathing, my legs and arms didn't fall off, etc.

Yesterday was better because I got a transfusion. And also my mouth swelling went down and I could actually eat food besides pudding. (it was worse because the shot in my leg has caused me such exquisite pain that I ... can't move my leg. You don't realize how often you use your quads until one of them is bruised right next to the bone. Look how good a complainer I am! I could be a professional whiner!)

So that's been my life the last couple of days. I've been thinking about being patriotic, but I'm pretty patriotic year-round (relatively). Last night at Logan fireworks I opted not to walk across the street to watch them. I went to bed. I could hear the booms nicely, but I was on the wrong side of the room to see anything. And my glasses were off. And my family just got back from the parade, and I also decided not to go to that either. I am wearing my bright-red KU 2008 NCAA Champions shirt (woohoo). But I guess that's the extent of it this year.

Mainly I'm panicking about the way Silvey's screen has half snapped off. Can I make this computer last two more months until I buy a new one? It looks iffier and iffier. Sad, because it was really in almost okay condition (meaning, I thought I'd really make it the rest of the summer) until I pulled the screen back too far...and then Spencer moved my computer to plug it in. (I can blame him because he put it upside-down, and if he'll do that he'll utilize all sorts of less-than-gentle handling, right?)

Well, this is a bright and cheerful blog post. I'm doing well -- standing up causes fewer throes of agony, and I can open my mouth, and Annalisse and Terik just came and entertained me for like two hours -- I just like to complain. I'm like the anti of those cheerful cancer patients you see that nobody ever hears say a negative word. But I pretty much just have a goal to not be as bad as that old lady I saw in radiation one day. I'm succeeding at that. :)

Now, for a "thought." Patriotically, and because two of my sisters marched in the band today, here is my little tidbit of wisdom. Well, hardly wisdom. It is simply a tidbit of stuff. And here goes: Four years at BYU, and I don't know the fight song at all. I, um, never even went to an athletic performance (you know, a game). What kind of student was I? I mean, really. However, I am proud to state that I still know the Mountain Crest fight song in its entirety. I will sing it for you now. (To hear an audio version of the lyrics, contact me.)

We sing all hail to you from Mountain Crest, the school that's rising to the top. We are the Mustangs and we're rising high, for we know we can't be stopped. We've got the teams, we've got the spirit, the students and the faculty, and we are pressing on together toward our goal of victory. We're number one! We are the best! So everybody step aside for Mountain Crest! Rah-rah! We're on our way to fame and glory so let our colors proudly fly. Let's all unite to tell our story, all you who hail from Mountain Crest High! Go!

Yep. Still inordinately proud of that. But it's an awesome fight song! And we were an awesome school! (Second place is really not all that bad.) The end.

"Hope On Fire" ~ Vienna Teng

nature is so: the same rain that draws you near me falls on rivers and land

So, how about this weather, huh? It's raining, and it has been for like two weeks. Funny, I thought Utah was a desert. But you can be sure I'm not complaining! I'm very delicately attuned to temperature, and I hate it when it's too hot. I love watching it rain, and smelling it through the open window, and never having to turn on the sprinklers. Awesome.

I'm sad. Practically my own personal rainstorm that I like to call the Amazing Human Faucet.

And i just wrote a whole post complaining about it, but I don't feel like it's very uplifting, so it is now gone into the abyss. Mwahaha.

In other news, I don't really have a lot to say besides the topic that I've already decided is too grumpy to post about in a blog that used to be soooooo intellectual. I mean, I did have my tumor removed. Along with it went the muscle group known as the adductors. My surgeon says that's about the biggest muscle group you can lose without losing major function. So, yay me?

I will just say one thing regarding my previous grumpiness: I miss interacting with people my own age.

That's all.

"Lullaby for a Stormy Night" ~ Vienna Teng

shine with all the untold

Not a night has gone by that I haven't cried a little bit, all because I'm overwhelmed at the kindness of friends.[1] Usually it's one or two that play a pretty big part in my life right now, but sometimes I think back to before. There are some very nice people, and I've shed tears over many of them.

(Ex.: She let me stay with her...He said goodbye to me before I left...She gave me a book...a birthday card...delicious dinners...He still talks to me, despite all. I don't deserve all this...etc.)

I wish that I were better at redistributing the good deeds. I guess I've got the rest of my life to be kind to people, but it'd be nice to get in the habit now. It's going to be hard to break my life-long tendency to be the served one. So, if I can do something for anyone, let me know and I'll do my best. As long as it doesn't involve moving around.

Also, this post is a shout-out to my awesome family, especially Jennie, who wins the helpful award.[2] (Spencer wins the sulker award, followed closely by Kiana, then me. This award is not so well acclaimed.) Have a great summer, kids!

I wonder what comes next.

"Shine" ~ Vienna Teng

[1] Except for two nights ago, when I cried because I'm frightened of not being in my right mind when I come out of anaesthesia tomorrow night.
[2] Also the instrument-learning award.

on the edge of the summer

I think I'm finally getting used to my new haircut. I've had a hard time with it lately because it just looked so weird when I looked in the mirror. I still think that being bald makes me look more vulnerable, which is just what I need. But it doesn't throw me off as much when I catch a glimpse.

Still not totally down with the idea of leaving my head bare in public, though. I just ... don't like people looking at me. And everyone looks at you at least once to make sure they're actually seeing what they think they're seeing. So I'm leaving it to my siblings' friends and random people that come by before I have a chance to put something on. I'm working on it, though.

Even so, it's hot. I spend a lot of time here in our family room with windows on 3 sides and no curtains or blinds, and ... it's warm. I wish more of my friends would come visit my house. But I can understand that a 2+-hr drive is more than people are willing to do, even though Providence is a very nice place. Oh well.

It's my brother's birthday party right now. They just went mini-golfing and now they're playing Hole in the Bucket. Which is where they sing "There's a hole in ma bucket, Dear Liza" over and over. (No, that's not true. They have to use holey buckets to transfer water from one container to another. They're having fun.)

And now, for a thought.

I was sitting here on the couch a week or so ago, just looking outside at the leaves on the trees and thinking about my stories. In all the stories I write, something happens to the characters, or they do something. I could write about the leaves, but it would not sound very good. I'm just not a good enough writer. And I've had plenty of time since then to be reconciled to that (mainly, I just forgot about it until I was sitting here looking at the leaves on the tree), but I still think there are improvements I can make. This doesn't have a lot to do with any of you unless you were waiting for my writing to become excellent so you could be my agent. Then you can know that if you're looking for thoughtful reflections, you'll never find 'em here.

Now they're waterboarding. What a fun birthday party!

(Okay, they're not waterboarding. But there are children lying down with pop bottles on their stomachs that their team members are trying to fill. Screaming ensues.)

"Daughter" ~ Vienna Teng

the driver doesn't know way down how deep these bright-eyed feelings run

Whoo, do I ever need a break from studying. I am pleased to announce that I think I'm understanding the information better than last time I tried to study it (about two weeks ago ... my studying habits tend to have large breaks in between). With luck, I can be prepared for my exam by the end of the week. I'll go down to Provo (or Salt Lake, but ... I'm hoping for Provo) and display my lackluster knowledge on the test, then hang out with people outside my family for a day or two! I'm excited.

So, Monday night I caught what I might refer to as a "blogging bug." I had all these brilliant thoughts that I needed to write down or they'd be lost forever. In order to preserve the world from having to deal with my spamminess, I opened a WordPerfect[1] document and titled it, "Write down your stupid brilliant thoughts down here first." So I did. I started immediately. One of them actually turned into part of a blog post on its own, and with editing it will appear below shortly.

Unfortunately, the blogging bug didn't stop when I tried to sleep, and lots more "brilliant" thoughts forced their way through my brain. Since I slept so poorly, on Tuesday I only remembered one "brilliant" plan I might execute when I'm down visiting Provo. Or not, since it's pretty ridiculous. But anyway, I also stayed outside for an hour or so and that combined with poor sleeping meant that I was too sick to do anything the rest of the day yesterday, so I couldn't post. (I figure, every other day is a good enough break from me, if I really want to be prolific -- which I did!)

So, here's an edited version of what I started writing Monday night. I hope you don't take much of what I say seriously, as it's clear that this blog, if it continues, will no longer contain my attempts at high-falutin literature, as such, but will be full of rambles like this, and I love saying things I don't really mean.


I have this habit of stalking blogs of people I know. Or that I don’t know, but I think I know well enough to read their blog. I’ve tried reading the blog of someone I don’t know at all, and it feels like a privacy invasion. But these other people? I figure that since I know their name, basic appearance, and some life information, they're fair game. I don’t want to become a “Follower” because that’s just stalking. That’s letting people know that I read their blogs.[2] So I just every once in a while remember, “Hey, I really like this person’s blog. I’m going to read up on what’s been going on in her[3] life since last I read.” Sometimes I’m obsessive enough to check multiple times between updates, but I think I should try to curb that habit. Obsessiveness = not attractive. And I’m a cancer girl; I’m already about as unattractive as you can get!

Though I forget that a lot of the time. I was thinking about ... oh, probably my response to a Board question. I’m obsessed (see) with the Board. And I was thinking about describing myself as “pretty, but it’s hard for me to judge from photos, because, well, I’m me. Some photos I think display me well, some don’t.” Then I remembered what a shock I got walking into the bathroom this morning. Pale face, glasses, less hair than ... most people.[4] It was not a pretty sight, and luckily it’s still not my perception of myself. Someday I’ll go back to being pretty (and some days I sure can fake it with a little application of what we’ll call “the wig”) so I’m not too worried about being death-warmed-over ugly right now.


(Today, Wednesday, I'm getting a haircut to make me look more bald. And I also got presents of false eyelashes and an eyebrow pencil. These will also help me "fake it.")

One such blog I stalked on Monday sparked another brilliant thought, that is absolutely true and has been for years: I would love to be part of an impromptu musical number in some public place. You know what I'm talking about. Think: synchronized shopping carts.[5] At least, some synchronized dance moves with a catchy song. But ... I think that'd be fun. If anyone ever tries anything like that and I'm there, I'll probably try to join in even if I'm not part of the group. I guess if I never see/participate in one personally, I know I would like to see more of them in the world. So that was something I wrote down to potentially let people know.

Well, that's probably enough from me today. If I have more brilliant thoughts, I'll write them down in my Stupid Brilliant Thoughts document and let them sit for a day before letting you all view them.

"Unwritten Letter #1" ~ Vienna Teng



[1] Yes, I still preferentially use WordPerfect. I am not alone in this; my Creative Writing professor also confessed to this.
[2] But the people I actually know, I don't really care about following their blogs. I like to check up on them, too, but to be honest the whole "following" thing is kind of overrated.
[3] usually I end up stalking girls – guy stalking interests me less, but not if it’s Nathaniel because I stalk him mercilessly.
[4] A lot less hair than most people. But I’m not bald, which really throws people off. Like, nurses who have to see me without my hat because ... let’s face it, I go hatless whenever I’m home (my family’s used to my hag hairstyle) and it’s way more comfortable when I’m semi-conscious to not have a hat on. And when I’m unconscious. Which is how most of my hospital visits are, one of the two.
[5] Don't also think in conjunction: huge disaster. Because that would not make for a very good performance.

Everyone agrees it came too soon

Uh, well, hello. *dusts off old blog* I am happy to say that I am alive, despite evidence to the contrary (as in, months of absolute inactivity). I'm not quite sure what this post should be about, though, as I'm not very creative anymore.

You see, much like my woeful predictions about two or three posts ago (weird, that, since it's practically been a lifetime since then), I have come down with cancer. Nobody that is already following this blog is surprised by that (yes, all two of you -- I really need to be more exciting). Since I've kind of had this diagnosis since, oh, February. That's one of the reasons I haven't posted lately.

I could always just post a bunch of random facts about myself. That could make a good blog post. (I'm really bad at these. Did you know?)

I'm now pretty good at opening pill bottles. I used to not be able to do it. But I've figured out the trick, and how to do it without injuring my wrists too much, so I'm pretty cool.

Still can't brush my teeth neatly, though. I always make a mess. You'd think an adult would be able to ... well, I can't.

...

Apparently, there are only two random facts about me that I feel inclined to tell. I mean, I do have the 25 Randoms posted over on Facebook. But I was trying to think of new things. New and exciting things that would make this blog worthwhile again.

Because if I'm not careful, this could be the very last post ever, and so far I'd call it less than stellar. In fact, that is what I call it. I'm lookin' at it and thinkin', you are so less than stellar. Too bad your author is so not smart or creative anymore. Then you could really shine or something.

One thing that I have noticed is that I'm a bit more random. First round of chemo when I was at about this point (recovery, but still kinda too sick to move) I messaged a girl named Celeste that I'd never talked to before in my life and pretty much spilled my entire guts on her. I mean, not exactly. I just really needed her help and preferred to talk to her, who I've at least seen in my life, than, hmm, other people I could think of that could assist me, but who would probably me more alarmed since I pretty much ... don't know them. And I wanted to remain on good terms with the girl I pestered... Back in the day when I still cared about the impression I was making on people.

Where was I? Nowhere good. Oh dear. This is just what I did not hope to see in my resurrection blog post. I think I'm going to edit a couple sentences in that last paragraph, maybe nix a name or two...

How would you like to see some writing of mine? Back from 2006, from my Bible fanfiction class. I mean, my Bible as Literature class that I just happened to create an assignment to write fanfiction for. Did that sentence make sense? I can't tell. So I wrote like 5 stories, and I would like to share with you a shortish one. Just to give this post some substance other than cancerous ramblings. Chemotherapical ramblings. Whatever.

I would remind you that I wrote this back in 2006 (and if you think this is bad, you should see my attempt at humor).

This story is entitled "A Mother's Smile" and takes place in the years before the story of Jael in Judges 4-5.

A Mother’s Smile

Sisera was very small when he found that he was in love with his mother’s smile.

It was a smile that she reserved just for him when, that first morning, he brought her a pretty stone.

“Oh, my son!” she exclaimed, and Sisera was amazed at how her face lit up. “What a pretty thing you have brought me! I shall wear it.”

He watched her face as she placed the green stone against her robe. The light in her eyes entranced him. He was devastated when she stopped smiling. Sisera wanted, somehow, more than anything, to bring that smile back.

Other stones and desert blooms soon found their way into his mother’s lap, and Sisera was rewarded in just the way he preferred, but as time went on his desire for that smile grew into an obsession; he wanted it there all the time.

One day young Sisera saw the most beautiful fragment of cloth wrapped round the head of one of those Israelite girls. He knew his mother would love it.

“Hey,” he said. “I want your headscarf.”

The girl just looked back at him with wide, firghtened eyes, backing away. Sisera wondered if she’d heard he was a favorite for the military. His mother liked to tell everyone how she dreamed he’d grow up to be commander of the king’s army. But that was beside the point. If she was scared of him, it was all the more reason to give him that green fabric.

“Give it to me!” Sisera said angrily, reaching out for the girl.

“No, it’s mine!” the girl cried, clearly terrified. She turned to run away, but Sisera tripped her and put his foot on her back so she couldn’t move.

He reached down and whipped off her headscarf, causing her long braid to flail limply. The vulnerability of the black rope strangely excited the boy. He pulled out his knife and roughly hacked off the end of the girl’s braid.

“Let that teach you to disobey me,” he said viciously, moving away so the girl could get up. “Be glad I didn’t chop off all your hair – or a finger!” he called as the girl stumbled away, sobbing.

Satisfied, Sisera pocketed the bit of hair and ran to show his mother his new present for her. She went into such ecstasies it was amazing and very pleasing to her son. Even when she tucked him in and got him some milk, the light in her eyes was still there.

“You have made me proud, my son,” she said, stroking his forehead. “What a man you’ll be.”

<*>

Years passed, and Sisera fulfilled his mother’s dream and became commander of King Jabin’s army. His lack of respect for Israelites – and his tendency to claim trophies from his victories – did not make him popular with them, and there had recently come word of a rebellion led by Barak and assisted by their “judge” Deborah.

“I’ll be back soon,” Sisera assured his mother, kissing her farewell. “It’s time to break these Israelites once and for all.”

“Well, make me proud, son,” his mother replied.

“You can count on it.”

...Yep. I was proud of that. I also did such a good job on my Alternate Universe story (what if meshach, shadrach, and abednego had bowed down to worship the gold statue? Or, you know, one of them) that my mom used it in a talk. But it's kinda long, and I'm not a huge fan of the writing style. It's the concept, I think.

I think that's enough from me for today. Happy Spring!

"Say Uncle" ~ Vienna Teng