The Gated Saint

He dazzles me.

Lights twinkling and sparkling like gems glittering on his freshly pressed suit. It's crisp and perfect, fitting in every way, his coat-tails hiding the pockets that would ruin the illusion. But I don't care.

His mistress greets me proudly, knowing she is the heart, the Gate to it all, but welcoming the strays such as me into the inner sanctum. She's both tall and diminished. Her partner charms all those inside, old and new, yet she above all is in her element and cherished as a mother.

We go out on the town, leaving the silent guardian to stand above us. He shows me the sights and sounds and smells of it all, careful to shuffle all harm away, but I don't care. He dazzles me and I am swept into the spell, the lie, the dream. Night after day, every minute my senses alive to a new opportunity, a new chance. Time flies here and I'm left drunk in all that surrounds me.

Far too quickly our time ends and my wings arrive to transport me. He's out welcoming the new arrivals, so I depart in quiet longing of one. more.

A tear trails a path down my face as I leave everything but the physicalness of me behind. And as I watch him dwindle, I see her, the first and last of him. She stands proud above it all, fading into the dark telling those he's left for new

I'll be here when you return.

My Mind Rebels at Stagnation

It's late and as usual my mind is far to restless for sleep, though I have to be up in less than seven hours for a 12 hour shift at work. So this month's post is going to be bulleted ... bulletted? whatever. thoughts in points. and perhaps bad punctuation and grammar. Maybe not.

• It's critical to me that you know my favorite color or at least the basic shade. Since I see the world in colors different to other people, colors that have meaning and are interpretted as emotions, you knowing that sea-foam green is my favorite and that I see myself in varied shades of that base color means that you comprehend me a little better than most and you value me. When I ask you your favorite color, it is not out of a random place in conversation. I am either trying to place a color on you, one that I know will help me think of you and your favorites, or I am curious as to if the color I see for you is the same as your favorite color. Colors matter. Please respect that.
• If I am awake and on my laptop late at night, that does not mean I wish to talk to you. It does not mean I wish to interact with you. It means I can't sleep, can't slow my brain, and must find a way to filter out the thoughts. Please don't talk to me. If I was awake because of restlessness that needed to be shared, I would find you and talk.
• There's a potential I could be changed from BTM at WDW. I hope it happens soon and I can go part time. A job here would mean not returning to Hannibal, but it would be an interesting life.
• I wonder when the last book of Wheel of Time will be published and if I will have time to finish the other three before it comes out. I wonder when  Sherlock will start filming. I miss that show.
• Yes, actually, you having the TV on does bother me because you will leave the room and the TV will still be on. Not because you think I want to watch, but because you don't actually pay attention and only want the noise for it. Also, the show you're watching is disgusting.
• Why do I still want to snuggle with you? You're seeing somebody. I miss the connection with you. You were the first one I found here in Orlando that had more than just a passing interest in something I was interested in. You even like the same books as I do.
• Follow you down to the red oak tree as the wind moves ... beneath the hollow reeds...
• I hate not remembering all the lyrics to a song.
• I'm changing the URL and title of this blog. Well. Not the sugar with madness part. Except that may become the URL. Then I'll just need a new title. That would be easier than the other. Hmm. But this isn't a Disney blog and I hate blogging about Disney b/c it's mostly depressing and I don't like being depressing and a downer all the time. So it's going to be what my old blog was: an online diary of thoughts, life, and occasionally what's on my future planbook.
• 53 hours is a really long time. And one day off sucks. I would like two days, please.
• I'm planning on doing NaNoWriMo again and my story is Robin Hood as a pirate. I think it's turning out to be pretty epic. Or not. I don't know. I've also got a Sherlock Holmes thing in the works. But everybody is an animal. So yes, Sherlock is an otter and Watson is a hedgehog. Still tossing around ideas for Hudson. Chicken could work. She's basically a modern-human version of Lady Kluck from the animated Robin Hood. I just don't feel like a chicken fits the theme. I miss writing. I can't wait to have an excuse to do it more/ have something as a goal that motivates me.
• Why is the heart the seat of emotion? There was a weird eHarmony commerical. Made me think about it.

I'm taking longer to write bullets so I'll leave these 50 shades of Elle as your monthly nugget. Maybe I'll have something to post about later. Who knows?

Oh. It's Sings sweet beneath the hollow reeds. I think.

Stolen

Of all the representatives, of all the people, you had to be mine. And you had to come back into my life right when things were starting to look a little less bleak. You had to be the one to step in and remind me that I've got to fight for or against everything I've ever wanted. I can't fight back this time. I'm tired of the choices I've had to make, tired of deciding which one is going to hurt less so I can live with it and not deciding which one I want more. You're not helping, but maybe this is just another nudge to leave. Maybe I'm not really ever supposed to belong to one place, but to people instead. I'll just be an object, loved dearly, but placed on a shelf when it's time to grow up. This object had a place to rest, but the shelf got dirty so the cleaners threw the object out. I can't say I wish you the best and happiness, because I don't. I wish you would get out. I want my home back. You've had one, and while you're not there intentionally to hurt me... it still does.

Ramblings

There are those people who, once they've graduated, never seem to leave. They always return to the school and hang out and pine about the olden days. I swore I would never become one of those people. I thought it was dumb and didn't get the concept. You only meet people, spend four years with them, and then leave. I never thought about how long four years actually is. I also never factored in the sense of home that a place could bring. I want to go back, but I don't. I'm terrified that if I do return, I a) won't ever leave again and b) wouldn't be welcomed back like I hoped. It's such a weird mix of emotions. I'm not sure if it would be the best idea, the worst, a mediocore one, or just another bridge in life.
I've found where I want to go to school in England, but realistically that will be a while before I can go. In the meantime, what am I supposed to do? I can barely afford bills right now; how am I supposed to start paying off student loans?
In other Disney related news:
I've turned in my migraine paperwork. We'll see what happens. Hopefully I'll hear back within a week or so.

Lost

There are people in your life who you think will be around forever. You let them get so close to you and you think "Maybe this time, the final wall will be breached." But it never happens. And as time passes, that relationship grows more and more strained. It's awkward to start a conversation and as you look at who that person is becoming, you realize you don't like them. It's like that person is backpedaling. But maybe it's you. Maybe you're the one who's going in reverse and the rest of the world is moving forward. And then you panic and try talking to that person and for a while things seem like they used to be. And then more time passes and you realize you were right in the first place: they're reversing. That person has become so completely zoned on one central aspect that they forget there's an entire world outside of it. And it kills you to realize the truth: one more person is gone and they are never coming back.

Whether it's a push I did, or just time stepping in, I'm sorry I lost you.

But for everything, a cost.

"Yeh give up a few t'ings... chasin' a dream..."
John Silver in Disney's Treasure Planet is a cartoon cyborg created to match Robert Louis Steven's bad guy yet he speaks words of wisdom that can only be fully understood at the crossroads where I now stand. I knew life was full of hard choices and things had to be given up. I never understood that life was full of hard choices and things had to be given up.

I don't want to just visit England. I want to live there. I want to be a student, earn a degree, teach, live, settle down, eat, sleep, and maybe even die there. I want this place that is so far away from what I know and what I'm used to. I want a land that is so much more incredibly diverse and has so many other cultures around it. It's not a perfect place, I know that. It has discrimination and violence. It has all the issues America has, but it's... different. It's new. And I want to explore it. But it comes at a terrible cost.

I love my dog. Marshmellow has been a lifeline for me, something I know will be happy to see me no matter my mood or how angry I get; she always has a doggy grin and a full body wag for me. I miss her so much, and I'm only a few states away from her. If I go down this road to England, there is a good chance I will never see her again. She's getting old. It's showing in her joints and the white around her nose. When Henry died, I swore I would never get attatched to another dog, mostly because I knew I was the reason Henry had died, but also because the pain from losing Henry was more than I knew how to handle. When Sam had to be put down, it was the same thing. We already had Marshmellow at that point, but it was different. Then both of my grandfathers died, and there were days where all I could do was wrap my arms around that massive pile of brown flub and hold on. She used to do this thing where she would nuzzle her head against my neck when I hugged her, like a return hug. She hasn't done it in a while, but I haven't been as broken as I was then. I think, if I saw her now, she would nuzzle me again.
The cost of England: my best friend.

I have never felt like I had that place in my life that was "home." I lived in St. Louis for such a short period of my life, and for so many years when I wasn't able to hold memories, that although I deeply love the city and have a pride in it's accomplishments, it wasn't a place that I really missed when I was gone. I missed my friends, and the people I knew, but I didn't know how to miss a place itself. Owensville I hated; always have, and probably always will. The children are unaccepting of newcomers, and taunted those of use who moved into the school system. I fought back, and made a few friends, some that I still occasionally talk with, but not really anything that will last forever. I had three different houses in that town, and none of them was a place that when I lived there, it was missed and eagerly greeted when I returned. Even with selling the Mt. Sterling house, I miss the memories of that place, not the house itself. I wanted Jacob to have it. I never wanted it. Then I moved to Hannibal. It was perfect; not to big so that I felt suffocated or unable to handle the traffic, but not so small that I was bored or felt constantly observed. It is on the river front, giving me water access. It has a train that runs through the town. The people are warm and will smile at you in the street while still walking, a way of saying "I see you, and hello, but I want to stay in my own world like you want to stay in yours." There aren't many awkward conversations between people you want to avoid. It has variety in it's food, although not many sit down places. But that's what Quincy is for. 20 minutes of drive time to get somewhere is actually pretty decent when you're used to driving an hour to get anywhere. It has a baseball team, though I never got to watch them play. I know what it means to miss a place now; I cried for an hour last night thinking about Hannibal.
The cost of England: my home.

Jacob is turning 13 in November. I've waited for this birthday since he was little, though I never realized how much we would have in common. After I got over the disappointment of having a brother, I was excited as I thought about having a companion who would want to see the car movies, the rough and tumlble beat 'em ups, the explosive noises, and stupid humor ones. Finally having someone to play video games with and yell at the sports teams with. We've done stuff like that before, but it's when they get older and start understanding more that things change. He'll be driving soon, and that's a little unnerving. I hope he isn't like me. I drive faster than I probably should sometimes and don't always pay the best attention to things. He starts 7th grade this fall. High school isn't so far away anymore. Girls, cars, sports, friends, homework, all those things will come first and big sister will be pushed aside. That's ok, though. I wasn't exactly the best sister he could have, and should have, had. As you sow, that you'll reap, and all.
The cost of England: my little brother.

I could talk about how I would lose my mom through this, but it's a different thing. I still talk to her so often it doesn't make a difference to me how far apart we are; she's still there in the times I need her and still nagging when I'm about to punch something. Even with 3,500 miles and six hours difference, I know that won't really change that much. My phone will just be quieter, and that's when things will start to be weird. I could talk about how my friends would drift away, but it's the same thing: we have the internet now. Communication is so much easier to access. The ones that matter will keep in touch, and the ones that don't, well, it's better off that way anyway. I'll miss having my mom easily available to call or make pancakes for me, and my friends for BWW's nights or movie dates, but there are still ways to do even those small things. Setting up a Skype date and pressing start at the same time. Making pancakes at midnight so I can be "eating" them with my mom at six pm her time. But Marshmellow won't be there to snuggle or rough house with. Hannibal won't be there to escape within. Jacob won't be there to watch the latest Marvel movie an discuss Loki feels.
The cost of England: half of my heart.

It's a cost I'm not sure I'm ready to pay. I have a few months to figure that out, but I know if I don't do this now, I never will and I will always wonder. I'm still learning who I am and trying to figure that out here is like trying to decide what kind of ice cream to try in a brand new store you've never been to visit. It's overwhelming. And yet, it's intoxicating. I'm making a stand for things I've always or never thought about, but in new ways with new people and I can finally voice my reasons and not robotically spit out what I've been taught for years. And if learning who I am means giving up half my life, then cry God for Harry, England and St. George!

Points, Celebrities, and All that Jazz

Two months down. Two very long, very hard months are finally over. And somehow I've survived. I'm amused by this, but also, I'm still dreading the next five months. Things have gotten easier, but that doesn't mean I'm really enjoying it more. I'm just making my way through. On the other hand, that ironclad stubbornness that I've come to be known for has reared it's head again. I've talked before about wanting to travel abroad to earn my Masters, maybe even permanently settling somewhere else. This is the start. If I can make it through this, I'll have the strength to make it through harder things and stranger things. So I'm staying. I will complete this, and while I may not be the perfect employee with a spotless record or the willingness to hide all the imperfections of this place, I can honestly say I'll be giving it everything I've got every chance I've got; except today. I had to call in sick because of a cold. Normally, within two weeks of something starting I find myself down for two days with a cold that muddles my brain and drains my energy. On the uphand, I never get sick after that. But the clockwork cold decided to kick in two months after starting here. >.<
Oh, and I talked with a manager about the point system. I'm not as in the danger zone as I thought. Yea!

Every once in a while we, as cast members, have the opportunity to interact with people we otherwise would be shuttled away from. For example, the cast of the Disney show Good Luck Charlie. They came to Thunder one night when I was at the wheelchair assist position. Basically, at that spot at that time of night, you stand outside and escort wheelchair parties inside and then stay with them to help them get on the train. They drop one position and the assist takes up both. Anyway, I was outside when another cast member walked out and told me they were inside. I still have yet to figure out how they got in the building without me seeing them. Disney magic, I suppose. Point is I was able to seat them, even though I have no idea who they were. I didn't get to talk with any of them, but I chatted with their escorts. Still... I met the cast of Good Luck Charlie. : )
I also met an NBA star, but I have no idea who he was. He was with his family, and they requested the front of the train. That was cool.
I heard Ice Cube came through, but I didn't see him. Tom Cruise was in the parks yesterday, spotted at Dumbo. It will be interesting to see who else shows up as the months continue.
It's amusing to me to say I've met these people, but I'm not really starstruck or anything. My favorite guests aren't celebs, it's the familes who come through on first time vacations or who need just a little bit of an extra hand. I've chatted with a family from England who had a small boy who needed that extra smidge of attention. We chatted about the Avengers for ten minutes and I waved them off with a cry of "Assemble!" before taking their chair to the other side of the tracks. Three nights later, I was in the same position and they came back. I remembered them, but the best part was, they remembered me. Those are my favorite moments.
I love making little magic moments in whatever ways I can. Those are my moments, though; my private memories. Yes, they happened, and the reactions are what make my job worth it, but I don't need to be such a braggart as to say "I did this" or "I made this happen." It's a privilege to be a part of these moments, and these are secrets that I'll keep to myself.

For the Moment I Feel Faint

So many thoughts bouncing around, so many ideas. It would be nice if they lined themselves up in an orderly fashion, but instead they act like the tour groups in a queue, going wherever they wish and acting ignorant when you tell them to stop it.

It's been a while, but it hasn't been that long. How are you, my friends? The few that read this. Shall I tell you a tale of suspension and return, of heart ache and fear? Yes? Then let's begin.

Once upon a time...
A Young Girl, newly trained at her job, had a bad habit of helping others in different positions who were struggling to care for their spots, so when she had the chance, she would leave her post and help out until something called her back to her spot. This was a very bad idea, especially when she was at the spot she feared the most, a place called Tower. Tower was very large and very scary. Everything was controlled by Tower and nothing happened that Tower did not see. The Young Girl did not like Tower but when she told people about it, they said she would get used to it and treated her like she was ridiculous. The Young Girl eventually stopped mentioning her fear, and tried to adjust to having to be in control with Tower.
One evening, a Fellow Worker, who didn't like the Young Girl very much and was especially rude to her, came through part of the place close to Tower and asked about a lost item. The Young Girl responded by confirming that the lost item was indeed in Tower, and after checking her monitors, the Young Girl stood up and handed the bag down to another person to hand over to the Fellow Worker. Her hand never left the Board of Buttons that made up the biggest part of Tower, but the Fellow Worker felt like the Young Girl had committed something very, very wrong and told a Minor Boss about it. This was not a good thing for the Young Girl.
When she came to work the next day, the Young Girl wasn't in position for very long before she was called to a meeting. A Major Boss had her sit down and fill out a statement about the Young Girl leaving Tower, which the Young Girl said she didn't do, because she had never stepped down from the area. Another Major Boss listened to the conversation and then the two Major Bosses left, leaving the Young Girl to sit in fear and wonder about her fate. When the Major Bosses returned, they told the Young Girl that she was suspended until further notice. They took her identification away from her, and walked her out of the place where she worked, all the way until she reached a bus to take her away. The Young Girl was shocked. She knew Tower was very important, but she hadn't realized how important. She was scared. What would happen? Would she be fired? The Young Girl went home that night and slept, but never deeply and restful. She tossed all night and dreaded the days to come.
A week passed without anyone calling the Young Girl. She called twice before someone called back and asked her to come in. The Young Girl wasn't sure what was going to happen, but the person who called told her to come prepared to work, so she packed her lunch and left. A different Major Boss was waiting for her and told her that she was going back to work, but with a Reprimand. The Young Girl was going to need to be extra careful for the rest of the time she worked, because she could be sent home even easier now. This did not help the stress the Young Girl was already going through. She did not really like the place she worked but there was nothing she could do to change it. So she put her best foot forward and gave it her all. A migraine kept her home and in bed one day, and chest pains sent her home another day. It was a very long, hard two weeks for the Young Girl.
Her story hasn't ended yet. She found out she could apply for a Medical Accomodation that would place her somewhere that she wouldn't have to worry about dealing with migraines, which would relieve some of her stress and also her chest pain, for when her chest hurts, it's very hard for her to breathe. And so the Young Girl waits to hear and learn what is to become of her job and what she must do next.

Did you like my story? It's all true. Very scary. I wish I could say it wasn't my fault, but it partly was. I'm more frustrated about the work and the Fellow Worker. And the chest pain. It's annoying, but they "can't" do anything without paperwork. Disney needs to realize sometimes you have to act before the legality is there. God will protect, though. I mean, I've made it a month, so what have I got to lose?

See, But Don't Speak

I am not a Sherlock, by any means. I could not look at someone and tell a life story. I do notice little, obnoxious details, but nothing of serious consequence. Some people say it's amazing what I see. Others think I'm a creeper and the comments I make about what I notice are treated as such. Personally, I find it annoying more often than not. If I say something, I make myself out to be a leering awkward stalker figure. If I say nothing, something happens later that resorts back to that fact that leaves me standing around going "Why didn't anyone else see that?"

Take this post, for example. I'm not trying to be a braggart. I'm not saying I'm more special than anyone else. But I know people will think that, potentially scoff and say it out loud. I'm mainly just venting. 

If there was a way to report what I see, to verbalize it to someone, if perhaps, I had my own Watson, I think things wouldn't be so hard. Maybe that's why Sherlock grows softer and more... human, I don't know. Maybe I'm a Watson who has picked up on a Sherlock's skill and am looking for a Mary [or Mark, in my case] to understand and let me be wordy. Not exactly canon, but it's how my mind works.

I look at this thing I can do and look at the other 'gift' I have, synesthesia, and wonder how I don't explode sometimes. I've seen people with worse cases and they do have more of a reaction but I control mine. I don't know how, I just do.

Maybe it's all like the card I revceived today from a friend: everything balances out in the end. The colors fall according to the details and vice versa. 

And in the end, it produces this weird ability to move forward and not be completely and totally overwhelmed all the time. Which, considering the current job market, isn't a bad thing.

I Am Me

I have no desire to give constant updates and tell all the details about what is going on here. I don't want to be a bug under a microscope and that's all I feel like; as if I'm a window and everybody is trying to get a view of the world through me, but in their own interpretation. So that ends here. I'm not doing that anymore. I refuse to lose every part of me that I have found and fought so hard to have just to make people happy. I know this will sound like I'm chewing people out, but the voice I hear narrating in my head isn't barking or snapping these words. It's just me stating facts as I see them. And the reason I'm not flipping out and going all Loki on everybody is music, which happens to convienently be the reason I'm writing. I want to write about music, not Disney. So I'm doing that.

There are several types of music in this world. There's horrid music that makes ears bleed and deserves never to be listened to or sung again. We all know those songs. There's decent music, the kind that's tolerable on the radios and not really thought about after. Not worth buying on iTunes, but not something to change the station for. Then it's good music, the kind that people buy online, in stores, from friends [but that's stealing]. It's the play on repeat and jam out to it stuff, a favorite genre or just a really good song. Above that is the great music, the kind that makes you want to respond in some form, by singing, dancing, writing, painting, something. It creates this desire, an almost insatiable need, to return the gift given by music.
Then there is music. The ultimate, single factor that is so overwhelming it cannot be helped but listened to. There is no response worthy, nothing that would compare, so nothing else happens except listening. But the listening isn't just listening. It's a souls response, the movement of sound, the manipulation of emotions. It calms. It's everything just as it is nothing.
Soundtracks are one of my biggest weaknesses when it comes to music. I have more soundtracks on my iPod than any other single genre. I think I have around 30 right now. Movies, mostly, but some broadway shows, TV shows, or even music that was meant to accompany a book [Hunger Games, I'm looking at you].  But right now, the soundtrack of Sherlock is my cocaine. It's my go-to music because there is something for every emotion enveloped within the piano chords and string solos. I was so frustrated before work today because I had to go in, I was working super late, and I really just am not a big fan of working Thunder, although it has gotten easier. Sort of. But that's another story. My point here is that on the bus in, I listened to David Arnold and Michael Price take noises that could sound so chaotic and paint such a vivid scene in my mind that I was able to escape and forget everything. It was a sanctuary. On the ride home, people were loud and annoying, yelling across the bus. I turned up the music specifically from S2E3 and lost myself in the heartbreaking moments that happened inside those notes. I walked from the bus stop home, listening, letting my fingers dance in the air. I was safe in my world.
Call me obsessed. Tell me this isn't healthy. Point out that it's not real. I don't care. It's real to me, it keeps me sane, and it's something I don't fully understand and what to learn more about. I love Sherlock, the series, the books, the movies. Everything. The books are fantastically written and there's so much more to Holmes than we will ever know. The movies are so enjoyable and amusing. The series is brilliant and... Moffat...
But it's not Sherlock Holmes right now. It's these pieces with names like "Which Bottle?" and "Woman on the Slab" and "Prepared to Do Anything." It's the hidden, almost silent five second sounds deep in the background. The undertones throbbing in my ears. The drums pounding out the final seconds. This is my safe  place tonight. This is where I, Elle, come home. And it's where I am finally me once more.

BUS GREETER

Hey guys, remember that one time I was all about updating my blog once every few days? Yeah....

Where do I start this time? Friday last week I had Traditions, which is a class here at WDW that gives and overview of the history of the company and then sends you to your work location while you're still in business attire. Slightly annoying and boring. Sorry, Disney, but it was. Saturday I was in costume..
OH!!! THE REVEAL....
I am working on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. Aka a roller coaster.
Aka I'm not it's biggest fan and would rather work elsewhere but reasons come later.
Saturday. Rode rides, bummed around. Sunday. Trained. Monday. Trained. Tuesday... spoiler alert!
Trained.
And that brings us to today. But there are some fun/ amusing/ what the crap happened moments. Such as...

Monday: First real working day on Thunder, as in we traipsed around the mountain and worked stations, such as Dispatch, Unload, Merge... oh, and E-vac'd three times in two hours. It's the welcome from the mountain:
"Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but your brake zone is too fast so... emergency evacuation, maybe?"
Took a group under the mountain to get out. Underneath there are no cameras, no cellphones, no photos, no videos allowed. This guest called up to the front of the line "Hey, I'm not taking a picture or video, I'm just sexting."
...
awkward.
So I call back "Doesn't matter, I'm sorry but you'll have to put your phone away."
"I'm just sexting!"
"Doesn't matter, sir."
[awkward pause] "She's sassy."
Yes. Yes I am.
Also, this happened:
Little girl, around 7, exiting: "That was so awesome!! I almost peed!!!"

Tuesday:  Nothing to report. I know it was just yesterday, but aside from the fact that I went to bed at 7 pm so I could be up by 3:45 am to catch my 4:54 bus to make it to work by 6 am, I don't remember much. It was hot... and... there was a lot of people around... and I smelled really bad.... and my feet hurt. Oh. And my co-worker [Cody] vented about his obnoious roommate who thinks bus greeting is worse than trackwalking a roller coaster.
Poor idiot.

Ok, Wednesday. My FAVORITE DAY SO FAR. CAN YOU HEAR THE SARCASM IN YOUR EYES AS YOU READ. If not, close them, maybe you'll read better. Worked from 6-2:45. We got there and ran e-vac routes so my fellow CP [college programee] and I could prove that we knew what we were doing. After walking the ENTIRE attraction two times, we opened Tower. I never want to do that again. Too many lights and alarms and TVs and oh heavens I hate Tower. Hate it. I liked spieling, though. Speaking over the intercom was fun. Tower opens, trains start cycling to make sure everything is safe and secure. We head to walk-down, where we literally escort guests to keep them from sprinting to the rides. No, seriously, they run. It's called the "Running of the Tourist." Hilarious, actually. But, since they can't get on the ride without us, there's no point but they run anyway. After walk-down, Cody and I went on break since we'd been there for three hours before guests even got in the park.
Thank God for Monsters. I would not have made it through the day without one. Monster and Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies are now my go-to snack.
We went to grouping after break, which is the person at the end of the line asking you to move down the ramp, asking how many in your party, and helping to set people into rows for the ride. I liked grouping. Although the wheelchair assist side is chaos. I like the other side, called Main Side. I could work Main all day. Tower, I will beg out everytime. Dispatch, preferably not, because the idea of people's lives being so very much in my hand is daunting. That goes for every ride, but being on a coaster is so much more intimidating. I can handle Unload, but I'd prefer to skip Dispatch. I love, love, love Merge! Keeping track of how many Fastpass guests I allow in versus Standby and interacting with people. Yes please. I liked Wheelchair assist as well. Fastpass return at the front is... meh. I don't mind it, but I'd prefer to not have to do it.
Oh, right, back to the day. Grouping led to lunch and then Merge [yea!], Return [boo!], Wheelchair [yea!], and more grouping [yea!]. Then I clocked out and ended my freakishly early morning.

Tomorrow I close, so I don't have to report till three, which is lovely. Then Friday and Saturday I'm off. I want to use this blog to update you guys whoactuallyreadeveryword on what's going on, but also a thought organizer, so hoepfully that will happenthis weekend when I have more time and less that's happened.

I miss quite a few people from Missouri. But I don't miss the state, Owensville, or any other number of things. I do miss Hannibal. I was so disappointed when I found out I wasn't on Tom Sawyer Island. I'm still secretly wishing I can get trained over there or transferred. But, over all, Frontierland isn't that bad. Except the music. Annoying as snot. Ask any Kindergartener; snot's annoying.

Till next time.

And I Would Drive 16349402234 Miles...

It started early Tuesday morning, May 29. And by early I mean that indecent time before 8 am. We finished the car load, picked up my grandmother, breakfasted, erranded, St. Louis'd, and drove.
And drove.
And drove
And drove.
Kentucky was lovely, but the Creation Museum was... meh. Another post, I suppose. We left Kentuck, drove to Georgia and stayed at the hotel of death. No really. It was one of those "Hey, we look posh and superior, but really, there are stains everywhere and peanut shells in the pull out bed. Also, you have to drive down this creepy little unused road to get here. TROLOL."
O.o
Pack the bags, kiddies, we're leaving!!
Friday has arrived
It's Florida day.

That, dears, is the short version of the traveling days of Elle & Co from May 29-June1. After we arrived to Florida, we picked up the rental car Mom and Jackob were to drive while they were off Disney property and then I proceeded to take the wrong turn out of the airport and wind up 20 minutes [thankfully that was all] away from the hotel. I had the Radisson in Celebration, not the Radisson in Kissimmee.

To Radisson
To Radisson
I'll drive the lonely roooaaddd...
To Radisson
To Radisson
My car still has a full load!!!

Now that the Great Mouse Detective reference is complete, we can continue our story.
Also, I apologize for randomness. It's been a long two weeks.

Saturday we attempted to find a beach and discovered a quaint little Scottish town along the way. I plan to revisit this place some day. It was lovely. Sunday we made a trip to a church and I think I'll be making that my new refreshing spot. It's a Baptist church, smaller than Calvary, but large enough to be somewhat lost in the crowd. I like that. Sunday night I met the roommates at the Rainforest Cafe and the times that ensued were awesome. We laughed, we fangirled... it moved me, Bob.

Now referenced: Disney, Veggietales, and scary movies.

Monday. Check in day. It was a bit nerve wracking; I didn't really know where I was going or what to do or who I needed to see. Somehow I made it through the check in process and the next thing involved hauling boxes and suitcases up to the third floor of building 25, apartment 302, of Chatham Square.
Welcome home, Elle.

I'm not allowed to say much more than this, really. Disney is well known for it's secrets and it's magic. Plus, if I say more, it ruins the fun for others. So I will end with this: Tuesday was a long wait and unforeseen awkward drug test; Wednesday was a VERY early VERY long class in which I was slightly bored, I must confess; and today, Thorsday, was breakfast with my Mom and brother and our friends Hatter, Alice, Mary, Pooh, and Tigger. Tomorrow starts training and while I'm excited about finally, trully starting, I am not looking forward to my 6 am start time.
You'd think I couldn't find anything to complain about. I mean, I'm working for Disney. I make kids dreams come true. But right now, I'm exhausted beyond comprehension and I'm trying to still find a way to be nice and tell you what I can without compromising my agreement. Plus I'm still working out kinks in... people.

Oh, one last thing. I'm not working on Pirates. However, I am working in Frontierland in Magic Kingdom. I'll find out more tomorrow, I hope. Maybe I'll be on the ferries for Tom Sawyer island. I'd like that.
Till next time.

Prometheus Unbound

It's interesting what studying a play about a damned god will do for your own theology. I'm stuck taking one last class, one little buggar of a class that is keeping that slip of paper that says I made it through university away from me. The class is called “World Classics in Translation.” Two guesses what it's about. I really, really, don't like ancient literature. Hi, my name is Elle, and I hate Greek dramatics and Shakespeare. But that's a whole 'nother ballgame.

Prometheus has a story most know, and if they don't, stop reading and go look it up in your Greek mythology section at the library. He helps mortals, gets damned by Zeus, winds up chained to a rock with his liver being eaten daily by an eagle. Yada yada yada. Not my division. My part comes in here: fate and fortune play a huge role in this story and there's an underlying question of predestination versus blind wanderings. I've thought for years it was both and as I was thinking it out and rationalizing it in my brain, it's both.

Think on it this way. You've come to the cliché hall with two doors. Between these two doors sits... we'll go with a little old man, just for images sake. Little old guy sits there and watches you debate which door to chose. He starts chatting you up, but not asking questions like “Where are you from?” but more along the lines of “How was last night's dinner of tacos, made by your mom, which you ate at 6:25 pm?” You pay attention at that statement, and as you speak with him, or more, as you listen to him, you realize he knows everything about you. EVERYTHING. All the details you'd forgotten, all the ones you'd hoped would stay hidden, all the ones your family and friends remembered. Everything. He knows your hopes, dreams, fears, quirks, which shoulder blade is itching but your too mesmerized to scratch. So you ask him which door to go through. He tells you something of what each door holds, good and bad, and the final destination. It's a little far fetched for you to believe, and you start thinking one door looks better than another, for whatever reason you decide. His facial expression never changes, but in one of those weird “you know he knows that you know that he knows...” circles, it's clear that he knows what door you'll be picking. And he's done nothing to influence that. Everything he told you about the doors was unbiased. So you pick a door, and he's on the other side, waiting.

That's predestination and blind wanderings. We have no idea, and we still have the free will to choose. He just knows ahead of time the choice we're going to make.

And that's my little nugget of musings while I sit, listening to Sherlock Holmes music and attempting to pay attention to a Greek play I really don't care for at all. God works in random ways, doesn't he?

Now then, was this post predestination, or of my own free will?

Adventure is out there!

Teacups. Found in most homes, ordinary little mugs that hold hot tea, coffee, or any number of other drinks. Start out nice and warm against your hands and grow cold over time. Some of the more delicate ones are made of bone china, imported from around the world.

Some of them are made of love.

I'm one of those obnoxious people who makes plans and bails or never does anything with the people associated as friends. And yet for some reason these people love me. Now, some people might call that stupid, the idea of loving someone who treats others like wash rags, only there to be used. I think it's more of a reflection of a greater love. The Ultimate Love.

I was given a teacup for a graduation present. A real one, from England, made of bone china and painted with beautiful lavender flowers. When I opened the gift, I giggled, because the person I was given it by had made a reference to one of my hopes of going to England to get my Masters. My interpretation of the piece was that it was to keep my hopes alive and a goal to reach for. It was, and is so much more. This teacup, complete with the delicate plate it sits upon, was a souvenir said giver had bought over 40 years ago in Canada. It had been used and loved and passed on to me, because the giver knew I love to drink tea, hot, cold, and sweet. It's hard to explain the how much it means to me. There was a party given in honor of the graduates, and long story short, I wasn't the most pleasant of guests. I hid in the basement where I felt safe. And even still, I was given this bag of goodies and well wishes by people who had come to care for me as I care for them. I found the teacup when I got home, read the note, and fell apart. Despite my rebellious attitude, despite me saying I would be there for Sunday lunches, despite these and so many other things, the giver loved me enough to do this thing that would mean so much, though probably more than was realized.

Too often we forget the greatness and reality of the love we are given, love like this, only infinitely more... everything. Amazing. Incredible. Deep. Overwhelming. All powerful. Redeeming.

Everything.

I leave for Disney in 23 days. I'm terrified beyond belief that I will fail and be sent home or my roommates will hate me or one of a thousand other things will make me fall to a point where I can't get up. And then I see that teacup that sits in the china cabinet and love is all I need.

So let's find this adventure that's out there, eh?