Lead Me Where

• I’m home for the weekend; arrived yesterday afternoon, and I’ll return to school tomorrow evening. I could probably tally up several past posts which I have begun with the exact phrase seen above. I’m rather repetitive sometimes.

• Actually, I’ve been told that before. I wrote a paper last year, and exercised much the same writing techniques that appear in my blog posts, and someone read that paper and told me that I was repetitive. I think about that quite frequently, actually. Think about it frequently, and do almost nothing to alter my writing style.

• So I’m still repetitive.

• I took the two young sisters to the movie theater this evening. We saw The Croods. We’ve built a kind of tradition wherein I take it upon myself to accompany them to the theater once a year. The first time we did this, Larissa was three and Glendy was five, and we saw Despicable Me with Jo and her boys. The fire alarm in the theater went off partway through and I very nearly gave up the whole adventure, but they turned it off midway through our required evacuation and we were permitted back to our seats. Since the girls weren’t too deeply scarred by the whole experience, we did it again the next year.

• My father and I took the girls to see Winnie the Pooh two summers ago. I’ve already told you multiples times before how much I love that movie, and I’ll say it again because I have high standards friends, and that film is witty, creative, humorous, gentle, and quite endearing. So really, I encourage all to obtain and enjoy that great film.

• So The Croods. Having taken it upon my shoulders to bring the small ones to the theater, I of course feel responsible for the type of entertainment I was exposing them to. This explains why I actually read a review for The Croods, something I generally avoid doing. The review (from a Christian website, nonetheless) was surprisingly positive, and I approached this afternoon’s entertainment with eager curiosity. But oh, man, the movie was phenomenal. Deeply interesting from the opening credits, The Croods maintained my rapt attention throughout the film, and even made me cry in the emotional climax in the middle. I cried in a movie theater, friends.

• My father informed the kitchen today that I am becoming more emotive. What this means is that I had the emotional variety of a koala bear as a teenager, and have now grown such that not only do I allow tears to come out of my eyes, but I permit such eye leakage to occur in a movie theater.

• The Roommate is at school right now, while I am at home, and I’m experiencing the phenomenon wherein I feel very removed from what is happening in the realm of school because we work cooperatively to keep each other informed.

• So we Facebook chatted, which is a big deal because I haven’t been “online” on Facebook chat since the first week of January, due to the fact that when you are online, people talk to you, which I generally try to avoid in all areas of my life.

• But The Roommate. I found an image online featuring a zombie drawn in black and white, smiling creepily, captioned, “Running back to your room from the bathroom? I love a good race.” I posted said image on The Roommate’s Facebook wall because I am constantly being teased for the fact that I run so fast from the bathroom, back to our room, that the toilet is still flushing when I burst into the room. I posted the image on her wall and reminded her that this is real life: I must run, and I must run very quickly.

• But I’m home now, of course, and there are no zombies in these hallways. This is probably because there are 2.7 feet between the bathroom and my bedroom door, and that just isn’t enough space for a zombie.

• In closing, I’ve taken to calling the small sisters food items, as a term of endearment. I kissed them an hour ago, after having read them two chapters of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and said goodnight to Taco Sauce and Cheesecake. With that in mind, good night dear French Fries, and we’ll probably talk again rather soon.

~Natalia