The fluorescent lights flickered above me as I laid sprawled on the floor. My chest was rising, falling, gasping for air as I thought to myself, My innards are about to rip...I can't go on.
I shut my eyes for a second and I felt my breathing slowly return to normal. An odd rendition of that one "Harlem Shake" song was playing in the background. I was feeling lightheaded and the music began to fade. Was it the end of the song? Or am I losing consciousness?
Suddenly, a voice.
"Alright, if it hurts to go on, go to your happy place."
My happy place? My mind immediately began to trace an image of...of...of the most delicious chocolate cake I have ever seen. I began to taste the gooeyness of the chocolate chip cookies, fresh out the oven. Betty Crocker appeared in my kitchen and handed me a spatula and a bowl of brownie mix. Her eyes twinkled and spoke to me, saying, "Here, eat."
I closed my eyes...the corners of my mouth twitched into a smile. The chocolate was numbing my pain.
"Eden! Did you really just fall asleep?" My eyes flipped open, I lifted my head and looked to the left. My sister, legs propped up on an exercise ball and in a shaky V-position, was staring in disbelief.
"Hold for one more set, ladies!" The voice at the front of the room enveloped the "Harlem Shake."
"3, 2, 1 and alright! You're done!" Sighs of relief filled the room and finally, the Wednesday morning abs class was over. I closed my eyes again.
Betty Crocker reappeared.
--------
Let's give a round of applause for my first three guest bloggers, Nicolle, Sam and Michelle. Absolutely brilliant. They made this past month incredible with their words. (More guests coming in the near future!)
And now the reason for this blog: my life. I thought school was my biggest obstacle in this past month with the most time-consuming midterm project of my life (honestly...we ended it with an all-nighter that taught me Red Bull causes me to stutter...).
March 27, 2013
March 22, 2013
25 Facts you Might Have Already Known about Michelle
Dear Friends,
This is my first experience being a “guest blogger” for someone and I am so stoked for the opportunity. So I thought I would take this time to introduce myself to all of you.
My full name is Michelle Erin Sutterfield. But my family calls me Michy (pronounced Mishy) or Mich Fish. I actually prefer being called Michy because it is what I am called by those who truly love me. I am 24 years old, 25 next month, but I feel like a teenager still with the imagination of a 5 year old. I paint, and draw, and take photos on occasion. And if I am feeling a tad more creative than usual, I make Haikus. I have spent a lot of my adult years trying to figure out where I belong, which is one of the main reasons I am 24 years old and still trying to get a college education. I love to laugh, and I also love to cry. I sometimes wonder if I just feel emotions more than normal people do… like… 100 x more. It can be hard sometimes, and even purely unbelievable, but I wouldn’t trade who I am for anything in the world.
I am the daughter of Juliana and David, though not married anymore, they are great parents. We have had our ups and downs as any family would, but ultimately, they are my everything.
Every once in a while a friend of mine would ask me how I took my parent’s divorce. And to be completely honest, I could not remember most of it. I was so young when it happened (about 4 I think) and do not even remember them being together. But I do remember using my parent’s divorce to get one parent to do something the other would not. I was a very vindictive child. Luckily I grew out of this (I hope) and have moved on to doing better things with my time… like writing Haikus. But I will say that over these 20 something years of having two separate, but equal families, I have learned a few things that I would like to remember when starting one of my own.
Maybe at some point I will share those few bits of insight with you, but to stay on topic… and by topic I mean the topic of ME let me share with you 25 things you might not have known about me:
This is my first experience being a “guest blogger” for someone and I am so stoked for the opportunity. So I thought I would take this time to introduce myself to all of you.
My full name is Michelle Erin Sutterfield. But my family calls me Michy (pronounced Mishy) or Mich Fish. I actually prefer being called Michy because it is what I am called by those who truly love me. I am 24 years old, 25 next month, but I feel like a teenager still with the imagination of a 5 year old. I paint, and draw, and take photos on occasion. And if I am feeling a tad more creative than usual, I make Haikus. I have spent a lot of my adult years trying to figure out where I belong, which is one of the main reasons I am 24 years old and still trying to get a college education. I love to laugh, and I also love to cry. I sometimes wonder if I just feel emotions more than normal people do… like… 100 x more. It can be hard sometimes, and even purely unbelievable, but I wouldn’t trade who I am for anything in the world.
I am the daughter of Juliana and David, though not married anymore, they are great parents. We have had our ups and downs as any family would, but ultimately, they are my everything.
Every once in a while a friend of mine would ask me how I took my parent’s divorce. And to be completely honest, I could not remember most of it. I was so young when it happened (about 4 I think) and do not even remember them being together. But I do remember using my parent’s divorce to get one parent to do something the other would not. I was a very vindictive child. Luckily I grew out of this (I hope) and have moved on to doing better things with my time… like writing Haikus. But I will say that over these 20 something years of having two separate, but equal families, I have learned a few things that I would like to remember when starting one of my own.
Maybe at some point I will share those few bits of insight with you, but to stay on topic… and by topic I mean the topic of ME let me share with you 25 things you might not have known about me:
March 21, 2013
Guest #3.
This is Michelle.
I love her so much. Michelle was the first person I met this new school year. Her flaming red hair, her deep blue dress and her infectious laugh was what lured me to her and I knew that I wanted to be her friend. Being around her is always the best. She makes you feel funny and clever and just good about yourself.
Michelle has the wonderful gift of making friends. Her personality is one that meshes well with everyone and when you see her, you are drawn to her, you want to know her. She is always up to doing fun things and I see her at every event that I go to. You know it's going to be awesome if Michelle is there.
When I get awkward or say something odd (i.e. knickers) and I start feeling flushed, Michelle's laugh always puts me at ease and I feel better about what just happened.
We went crazy in a photo booth once.
Michelle's wonderful and I love her.
Welcome.
Update 3/22/13: Michelle's post.
Update 4/9/13: Michelle's second post.
Michelle has the wonderful gift of making friends. Her personality is one that meshes well with everyone and when you see her, you are drawn to her, you want to know her. She is always up to doing fun things and I see her at every event that I go to. You know it's going to be awesome if Michelle is there.
When I get awkward or say something odd (i.e. knickers) and I start feeling flushed, Michelle's laugh always puts me at ease and I feel better about what just happened.
We went crazy in a photo booth once.
Michelle's wonderful and I love her.
Welcome.
Update 3/22/13: Michelle's post.
Update 4/9/13: Michelle's second post.
March 13, 2013
Up and over the mountain
I don't know most of you that will be reading this. Well at least I hope you read it. But I do know Eden and I love her and who she is. She brings joy into whatever room she is currently in. I like that in a person. I am happy she invited me to write on anything I desired. I have thought and thought about different experiences that I have lived through and one seems to pop out from my memory that I wish to share...
First some background of me, well there is only one thing you need to know. I hate hiking. I could rant about it for hours. I don't have that much time so I will just say it is horrible and you are constantly scared that you will die from exhaustion. Then you get miles up the trail and you are scared that you won't die. Either way, scoutmasters get you up on the mountains and you are just kicking yourself thinking that you agreed to go.
This death march occurred in the high Uinta Mountains. (Here is a link if you are unfamiliar: High Mountains )
The whole time driving to this location the road we traveled by was flat. This got my hopes up, surely the road was a good indicator. But no, like a bat out of hell, the biggest mountains my young 17-year-old eyes could see popped out of nothing. Jagged jaws of cliff reaching outward 13,528 feet made my little heart drop into my ankles instantly making them swollen with fear. Yes, that description is accurate.
So there I was, walking on a dirt path that blended and crawled up a mountain. I was with friends, my father was there, my pack wasn't that heavy, and yet I was mad. Mad that there was a man that decided to climb these battered punch marks spread across the world and call it fun. So fun that millions caught on and developed large backpacks to carry canteens and powdered food packets up and down these exhausting trails. I was bitter as you can tell.
The path continued, we were so high that the trees themselves didn't dare to climb with us. I am not sure you readers have been above treeline before but it is high enough that trees cannot tolerate inappropriate environmental conditions (usually cold temperatures or lack of moisture). Why any human would want to be up where plants can't grow is beyond me, but there we climbed.
It was day 4 of this march and I was sick from food packets and filtered water. I had just woken up to what seemed like 33 minutes of sleeping and 7 hours of trying to sleep when I hear "pack up and lets get moving!" What more do you people want to see! There is nothing up there that would be different from down here. What good is this trip, everyone just wants to go home. I wanted to scream at my leaders but only did so in my head. Sometimes that is the safest place to yell.
First some background of me, well there is only one thing you need to know. I hate hiking. I could rant about it for hours. I don't have that much time so I will just say it is horrible and you are constantly scared that you will die from exhaustion. Then you get miles up the trail and you are scared that you won't die. Either way, scoutmasters get you up on the mountains and you are just kicking yourself thinking that you agreed to go.
This death march occurred in the high Uinta Mountains. (Here is a link if you are unfamiliar: High Mountains )
The whole time driving to this location the road we traveled by was flat. This got my hopes up, surely the road was a good indicator. But no, like a bat out of hell, the biggest mountains my young 17-year-old eyes could see popped out of nothing. Jagged jaws of cliff reaching outward 13,528 feet made my little heart drop into my ankles instantly making them swollen with fear. Yes, that description is accurate.
So there I was, walking on a dirt path that blended and crawled up a mountain. I was with friends, my father was there, my pack wasn't that heavy, and yet I was mad. Mad that there was a man that decided to climb these battered punch marks spread across the world and call it fun. So fun that millions caught on and developed large backpacks to carry canteens and powdered food packets up and down these exhausting trails. I was bitter as you can tell.
The path continued, we were so high that the trees themselves didn't dare to climb with us. I am not sure you readers have been above treeline before but it is high enough that trees cannot tolerate inappropriate environmental conditions (usually cold temperatures or lack of moisture). Why any human would want to be up where plants can't grow is beyond me, but there we climbed.
It was day 4 of this march and I was sick from food packets and filtered water. I had just woken up to what seemed like 33 minutes of sleeping and 7 hours of trying to sleep when I hear "pack up and lets get moving!" What more do you people want to see! There is nothing up there that would be different from down here. What good is this trip, everyone just wants to go home. I wanted to scream at my leaders but only did so in my head. Sometimes that is the safest place to yell.
March 12, 2013
Guest #2.
The following guest is a new friend of mine. Our friendship is budding. In fact, I think there's even a petal peaking out of the bud.
This is Sam.
I love him so much. (Too soon?) Practically every week, Nicolle, Camille and I partake in SWiS: Sundays with Sam. At these gatherings, we talk about everything, from our childhoods, to funerals, from Justin Bieber and his new heroin addiction to our recent happinesses or sadnesses in life.
Sam does not do things half-heartedly. Even if he would rather be somewhere else, he puts his all in whatever activity we are engaging in. He graced us with a reading of the Declaration of Independence on Presidents' Day and I eagerly await the day I play murder-in-the-dark with him.
He has yet to really see the awkward side of me, but I feel he is one to meet my awkwardness with understanding and kindness.
We played running charades once.
Sam's the greatest and I love him.
Welcome.
Update 3/13/13: Sam's post.
This is Sam.
I love him so much. (Too soon?) Practically every week, Nicolle, Camille and I partake in SWiS: Sundays with Sam. At these gatherings, we talk about everything, from our childhoods, to funerals, from Justin Bieber and his new heroin addiction to our recent happinesses or sadnesses in life.
Sam does not do things half-heartedly. Even if he would rather be somewhere else, he puts his all in whatever activity we are engaging in. He graced us with a reading of the Declaration of Independence on Presidents' Day and I eagerly await the day I play murder-in-the-dark with him.
He has yet to really see the awkward side of me, but I feel he is one to meet my awkwardness with understanding and kindness.
We played running charades once.
Sam's the greatest and I love him.
Welcome.
Update 3/13/13: Sam's post.
March 8, 2013
love, nicolle
Dear Followers of Eden,
This is a love letter. This is odd because I do not know you nor will I likely ever meet you in real life. How bold! I am going for it and I have committed. So look out, you rascals, one of us is gonna end up a little attached.....
Here it goes:
Only Eden knows what it means to me to be beyond category. Duke Ellington once explained that the greatest compliment paid him was when he was described as beyond category. I think that's lovely. As we know from the documentaries on netflix and the evening discussions with my dad, Frank, Duke Ellington was named the Duke due to his eloquence and classy dress from a young age. Contrary to the common Depression-era racial stereotype, Duke Ellington defied category and christened himself nobility. He played for audiences of all status and color and played music that only he could write. No one could ever replicate him.
It was my junior year of high school. I remember waking up one morning and looking in the mirror. I remember being so confused because I couldn't tell if I was beautiful or ugly. My nose lost all meaning for me. The relative-ness of beauty had been festering inside me for a while but it all just hit me that morning. I remember putting on clothes and staring at every part of me. I no longer knew where I fit. Even my clothes were indifferent to the expectations of the world around me. I was no longer "hot" or "unfortunate looking." I became Nicolle. My face was very "Nicolle" and the way I talked immediately became very "Nicolle." I stopped being a category created by my strange friends and acquaintances. I became me.
I think too often we allow ourselves to categorize ourselves and each other. We like to simplify the world in order to understand it better. Sadly, I think it just cheapens the human experience. Duke Ellington paid no mind to category and revolutionized the way the world thought about talent and skin color. I am no revolutionary...if I were, though, I would revolutionize the way we looked at each other. I would have us all look at each other with our names in mind instead of the type of shirt we are wearing. I would have us look at ourselves as the beautiful and unique faces we are instead of the comparable trends we are matching.
Followers of Eden! You are all so free and complicated (to the point of undefinable). You do not fit small categories like "hipster" or "poser." You are too large in soul and personality to be shrunk to that standard. I know that if I knew you, if I really knew you, I would be infatuated by your mind and unique ideas. You are beyond category.
Duke Ellington (and his orchestra):
love,
nicolle
nicokoren.blogspot.com
This is a love letter. This is odd because I do not know you nor will I likely ever meet you in real life. How bold! I am going for it and I have committed. So look out, you rascals, one of us is gonna end up a little attached.....
Here it goes:
Only Eden knows what it means to me to be beyond category. Duke Ellington once explained that the greatest compliment paid him was when he was described as beyond category. I think that's lovely. As we know from the documentaries on netflix and the evening discussions with my dad, Frank, Duke Ellington was named the Duke due to his eloquence and classy dress from a young age. Contrary to the common Depression-era racial stereotype, Duke Ellington defied category and christened himself nobility. He played for audiences of all status and color and played music that only he could write. No one could ever replicate him.
It was my junior year of high school. I remember waking up one morning and looking in the mirror. I remember being so confused because I couldn't tell if I was beautiful or ugly. My nose lost all meaning for me. The relative-ness of beauty had been festering inside me for a while but it all just hit me that morning. I remember putting on clothes and staring at every part of me. I no longer knew where I fit. Even my clothes were indifferent to the expectations of the world around me. I was no longer "hot" or "unfortunate looking." I became Nicolle. My face was very "Nicolle" and the way I talked immediately became very "Nicolle." I stopped being a category created by my strange friends and acquaintances. I became me.
I think too often we allow ourselves to categorize ourselves and each other. We like to simplify the world in order to understand it better. Sadly, I think it just cheapens the human experience. Duke Ellington paid no mind to category and revolutionized the way the world thought about talent and skin color. I am no revolutionary...if I were, though, I would revolutionize the way we looked at each other. I would have us all look at each other with our names in mind instead of the type of shirt we are wearing. I would have us look at ourselves as the beautiful and unique faces we are instead of the comparable trends we are matching.
Followers of Eden! You are all so free and complicated (to the point of undefinable). You do not fit small categories like "hipster" or "poser." You are too large in soul and personality to be shrunk to that standard. I know that if I knew you, if I really knew you, I would be infatuated by your mind and unique ideas. You are beyond category.
Duke Ellington (and his orchestra):
love,
nicolle
nicokoren.blogspot.com
March 4, 2013
Guest #1.
I think people are defined the most by those they surround themselves with. I have spent practically every day with great friends since school started in August and I think it appropriate that they share a bit of this blog with me. How can I blog about my life without having you meet the people that are a constant presence in it? So, pretty soon, you're going to see something new here.
That's right, I'm going to have guest bloggers. Or rather, guest blogger. Only one person has accepted my request thus far. (Mckeelicalmont, find the email and accept my request to guest blog. But no pressure.) And maybe they'll only write once. Maybe they'll be a frequent guest. It's up to them.
Anyway, before my first guest posts, I'd like to write a short blip as her introduction. And I'll do the same with future guest bloggers as well.
Here we go.
This is Nicolle.
I love her so much. She is one of my best friends and a great music enthusiast. The greatest gift you can give her is just a really great CD mix. Her blog is the soundtrack to her life. Each post has a song that is dedicated to a moment of her life and you really get a sliver of a glimpse into her soul.
Nicolle is passionate, and she's not pretentious about those passions. Granted, some of them don't merit pretentiousness, i.e. charades, The Terminator, chocolate twizzlers (which aren't too bad after the eighth time trying them). But other passions--the Gospel, music, making people feel loved--it's incredible what she sacrifices for these in her life.
She is rather tolerant of me when I get awkward or intensely quiet and when I grab her arm or hand for comfort in moments when I don't know what to with myself.
We took a bubble bath together once. (Don't worry, mom. With swimsuits.)
Nicolle's beyond category and I love her.
Welcome.
Update 3/8/13: Nicolle's post.
That's right, I'm going to have guest bloggers. Or rather, guest blogger. Only one person has accepted my request thus far. (Mckeelicalmont, find the email and accept my request to guest blog. But no pressure.) And maybe they'll only write once. Maybe they'll be a frequent guest. It's up to them.
Anyway, before my first guest posts, I'd like to write a short blip as her introduction. And I'll do the same with future guest bloggers as well.
Here we go.
This is Nicolle.
I love her so much. She is one of my best friends and a great music enthusiast. The greatest gift you can give her is just a really great CD mix. Her blog is the soundtrack to her life. Each post has a song that is dedicated to a moment of her life and you really get a sliver of a glimpse into her soul.
Nicolle is passionate, and she's not pretentious about those passions. Granted, some of them don't merit pretentiousness, i.e. charades, The Terminator, chocolate twizzlers (which aren't too bad after the eighth time trying them). But other passions--the Gospel, music, making people feel loved--it's incredible what she sacrifices for these in her life.
She is rather tolerant of me when I get awkward or intensely quiet and when I grab her arm or hand for comfort in moments when I don't know what to with myself.
We took a bubble bath together once. (Don't worry, mom. With swimsuits.)
Nicolle's beyond category and I love her.
Welcome.
Update 3/8/13: Nicolle's post.
March 3, 2013
Mountains to Climb.
"If we have faith in Jesus Christ, the hardest as well as the easiest of times in life can be a blessing...We never need feel alone or unloved in the Lord's service because we never are. We can feel the Love of God."
February 8, 2013
Ed Sheeran.
The rhythm of my heart was altered a couple nights ago.
No, no, not in a sappy, lovey-dovey way, though I do love Ed Sheeran (and I am forever indebted to Nicolle for introducing me to him last summer).
But literally.
The rhythm of my heart was altered.
There was a good five or ten or 30 minutes--all concept of time was lost on me--of his SLC concert where Ed just went crazy on his amplified bass drum (I don't know even if it really was a bass drum or if he was hitting his guitar). And although I was in the very back, behind the sound engineer, trying to see over the crying girl and the bizarre middle school couple who kept on swaying in and out of mine, Camille and Nicolle's lines of sight, I felt every beat that he stomped out as the rumbling booms infiltrated my body in powerful gusts of sound. I started having heart palpitations. My heart didn't know if it should continue its normal pumping, or give into the outside pressure of music, passion and its bass.
In the end, Ed Sheeran won. And my heart will never be the same.
(And props to his openers for preparing my heart for greatness: Rizzle Kicks and Foy Vance)
No, no, not in a sappy, lovey-dovey way, though I do love Ed Sheeran (and I am forever indebted to Nicolle for introducing me to him last summer).
But literally.
The rhythm of my heart was altered.
There was a good five or ten or 30 minutes--all concept of time was lost on me--of his SLC concert where Ed just went crazy on his amplified bass drum (I don't know even if it really was a bass drum or if he was hitting his guitar). And although I was in the very back, behind the sound engineer, trying to see over the crying girl and the bizarre middle school couple who kept on swaying in and out of mine, Camille and Nicolle's lines of sight, I felt every beat that he stomped out as the rumbling booms infiltrated my body in powerful gusts of sound. I started having heart palpitations. My heart didn't know if it should continue its normal pumping, or give into the outside pressure of music, passion and its bass.
In the end, Ed Sheeran won. And my heart will never be the same.
(And props to his openers for preparing my heart for greatness: Rizzle Kicks and Foy Vance)
February 3, 2013
My testimony.
Today someone said, "I feel if I don't share my testimony, I'll start to lose it." I want to share mine to the whole world because I do know that Jesus Christ is my Savior and I don't want to lose that knowledge. But, I am not an eloquent speaker. Whenever fast and testimony meeting comes around each month, I start panicking because although I love this gospel so much, when I start talking in front of a group, I tend to stutter and sweat. I'm much better in one-on-one settings, and I realized today that blogging is also a way of sharing my testimony to the world while not having to get up in front of people.
This gospel is one of truth and light. Quite honestly, knowing myself and my tendencies and weaknesses, I am positive that I would be in a bad place right now were I not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I get into ruts in the daily routine of my life and I get bummed out easily in those ruts. But I know that when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light unto me. I take comfort in knowing that He is there and that He listens. He is patient with me when I am being foolish and prideful and loves me even when I am stubborn. He rejoices in my achievements. He provides me with daily miracles. He has blessed me with a loving family and precious friends who are all incredible examples to me.
I love the scriptures. I know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God and is a companion to the Bible, and another testament of Jesus Christ. I find truth and the love of God within its pages. I know that Joseph Smith, under the direction of God, translated this book of scripture. Joseph Smith was the first prophet of the restoration and Thomas S. Monson is our prophet today.
I love my Savior and am extremely grateful for His atonement. With it, I can turn to Him when in need of solace and of repentance. I feel His love and tender mercy with every breath I take.
Christ lives.
This gospel is one of truth and light. Quite honestly, knowing myself and my tendencies and weaknesses, I am positive that I would be in a bad place right now were I not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I get into ruts in the daily routine of my life and I get bummed out easily in those ruts. But I know that when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light unto me. I take comfort in knowing that He is there and that He listens. He is patient with me when I am being foolish and prideful and loves me even when I am stubborn. He rejoices in my achievements. He provides me with daily miracles. He has blessed me with a loving family and precious friends who are all incredible examples to me.
I love the scriptures. I know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God and is a companion to the Bible, and another testament of Jesus Christ. I find truth and the love of God within its pages. I know that Joseph Smith, under the direction of God, translated this book of scripture. Joseph Smith was the first prophet of the restoration and Thomas S. Monson is our prophet today.
I love my Savior and am extremely grateful for His atonement. With it, I can turn to Him when in need of solace and of repentance. I feel His love and tender mercy with every breath I take.
Christ lives.
January 24, 2013
Ice.
Eden left her house early Thursday morning. To her great dismay, ice rain from the ninth circle of Hell poured from the skies and transformed the whole town into a grand ice rink. Muttering under her breath, Eden cautiously walked down the steps and joined students in the trek up to campus. Within five feet, books and scarves and phones soared up high as their owners plunged and slid. Eden stood her ground as she watched dozens of her nameless neighbors fall onto their backs. Wide-eyed, the small Asian girl clutched onto her umbrella and stared very intently at the sidewalk.
I will not fall, she chanted to herself. I will not fall.
She reached the foot of the hill, but not before witnessing the tailbone-cracking slips of dozens of students.
"Walk on the snow!" someone atop the hill shouted down.
Some did not listen and tried to hike the incline. One after the other, the fools slipped and fell on top of each other. Even the ones attempting to get to the snow biffed it on the small stretch of sidewalk they had to cross to get to their starchy snow salvation. Eden made it to the top, and, like a boss, she texted the whole time. She had to warn her friends of the treacherous trip they would face when they leave the apartment.
Hoping that campus would have at least salted parts of the sidewalk, Eden almost proceeded with greater confidence in her step. However, after scouting out the area, there were five bodies sprawled within a couple feet of the hill's peak. Eden thought about her best route. Should she risk yet another stretch of sidewalk just to get to the snow? She decided against walking on the ice and that the fools would have to do. They already broke down.
So she did it. Eden leapt into the air and landed on one of the fallen. She skipped upon each of the bodies, like the ninjas do in those Chinese films, and landed on all fours into the snow. She was going to make it class, no matter what.
But it was already past 9 o'clock.
Eden swiftly grabbed her Stats book from her bag and decided this would be the fastest mode of transportation.
Eden broke through the wintery air as she iceboarded on her textbook all the way to the Brimhall. She dismounted, did a triple back flip and landed on the doormat.
Victory was hers and she laughed at the fallen fools as she entered the building.
I will not fall, she chanted to herself. I will not fall.
She reached the foot of the hill, but not before witnessing the tailbone-cracking slips of dozens of students.
"Walk on the snow!" someone atop the hill shouted down.
Some did not listen and tried to hike the incline. One after the other, the fools slipped and fell on top of each other. Even the ones attempting to get to the snow biffed it on the small stretch of sidewalk they had to cross to get to their starchy snow salvation. Eden made it to the top, and, like a boss, she texted the whole time. She had to warn her friends of the treacherous trip they would face when they leave the apartment.
Hoping that campus would have at least salted parts of the sidewalk, Eden almost proceeded with greater confidence in her step. However, after scouting out the area, there were five bodies sprawled within a couple feet of the hill's peak. Eden thought about her best route. Should she risk yet another stretch of sidewalk just to get to the snow? She decided against walking on the ice and that the fools would have to do. They already broke down.
So she did it. Eden leapt into the air and landed on one of the fallen. She skipped upon each of the bodies, like the ninjas do in those Chinese films, and landed on all fours into the snow. She was going to make it class, no matter what.
But it was already past 9 o'clock.
Eden swiftly grabbed her Stats book from her bag and decided this would be the fastest mode of transportation.
Eden broke through the wintery air as she iceboarded on her textbook all the way to the Brimhall. She dismounted, did a triple back flip and landed on the doormat.
Victory was hers and she laughed at the fallen fools as she entered the building.
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