The Testing Center

Grey cloth covers the windows obstructing my vision to the wind and snow outside, though that isn't their purpose. They hide me and the others from the world outside. Hours upon hours I pace the square room. The AC always too high, chills are my constant companion. I mustn't sit. They won't allow it. I slowly walk up and down the rows of metal chairs nailed firmly to the ground. Sometimes they are filled, sometimes they are empty. But it is always quiet. The silence pierces. As I walk, I watch, breathing down the necks of innocent prisoners. Their anxiety is tangible. I feed off it. They never look at me. But when I look over their shoulder with masked suspicion I see their body tense. Their mind goes blank. Their focus flees. A small sense of pleasure sneaks inside my heart from the moment of intimidation. Outside the room the sensation never occurs. But inside--I'm paid for it. Sometimes I hear lead snapping, or watch as a paper floats to the floor. I slink. I sneak. I smirk.  
Nothing Allowed:  each test sheet reads.
Cold sweat drops.
I linger when I sense it.

D.A.C.C.B.D.A.

B.
A.
D.

The test completed they retreat. The scanner eats the exams. They slide through in rhythm--in time with the clock. Constant evaluation. Each containing the destiny of a soul.
They begin to walk into the glass in-cased room to reap the reward of the labor.
My eyes scan the scene.
Ripped jeans. Pen-marked hands. You can feel the fear when a student disobeys.


They think we don't know.



They are wrong.








See you at the Testing Center.

Happy Halloween. 

The Death Star

Star Wars and LoR. Tara and I should start a nerd club. We could watch The Keeper of Time every weekend! Oh wait....we already do.

Love my apartment.

One pumpkin to rule them all...

It's almost Halloween!

7 days.

6 dates.
5 boys.
4 midterms.
3 callings.
2  proposals.
1.5 trips to the ER.
1 break up.
0 energy.

Another Gloomy Monday

Another Gloomy Monday.
Good morning. It's been a while.
Rain inside the taco bus.
I thought trains only stopped at the station.
They don't stop to choose.
We've reached our crossroad.
So have I.
But the train is at a halt.

Goodnight.

At least we moved.
Drizzle.
Drop.
Why has it stopped?

Perhaps the Rain will pause too.
It makes more sense to me.
Dim lights and dusty tunes.
Nobody home to greet me.
The pressure makes the whistle blow.
It presses.
Mostly on my heart.
What do I want?
What do You want from me?
Maybe wanting isn't important.

Just pull the lever for me.
If I do, I'll miss the Train.


Trains are dangerous anyway.

I can walk.

Please Prove You're Not a Robot

Every time I try to comment on someone's blog, I see:  "please prove you're not a robot" written above those crazy text boxes. Obviously, the chance to prove myself (even if it's of my own humanity) can never be passed up.

I put my hands to the keyboard, focus my attention, and type in the box; fairly certain of my reading capabilities:

Pu5tir 18

lurgBj 2

yarQiN 99

The unique collection of letters and numbers always surprises me. I feel so confident coming into this challenge because of my extensive background in the English alphabet and number system. But doubt never fails to creep into my brain before I submit the matching code sequence. Maybe it's because the symbols QWERTY and I enter in have absolutely no meaning to them. Or, if they do, it's in another language. Robot-Talk.

I don't let the language barrier stop me though.

With renewed assurance I submit the comment.




Fail.




Every. Single. Time.


Maybe I can't read.





Or perhaps I really am a robot.

Who Knew?

Fantasy occasionally turns reality.

Autumn is the perfect time for a bike ride.