I’m in a very dangerous line of work. I work with paper. Yeah, you heard me right.

If you’re picturing horrendous paper cuts, you’re partly right but that’s not what keeps me up at night. While, I must admit, I’ve had some pretty good ones; some “more fatal than others.”

But what I’d really like to address is the unidentified fluids that stain many of the papers I handle daily. A little background: I work at a disability law firm where people send in their Social Security paperwork and we file their claims for them. So you have to understand that these people have some pretty serious diseases and I am handling their fluid-stained paperwork.

We often try to guess what fluid we’re dealing with. Coffee? Lemonade? Who knows? But today, there was no question. There were full on drops of blood on this paper. My first thoughts were, “What is wrong with this person, how is their condition transmitted and do I now have the hiv?”

But even more treacherous, a few weeks ago I was handling the papers as always; throwing them to and fro. When suddenly I passed one a little too close to my face and my mouth was open just enough. I totally licked the piece of paper. The freaking out commenced. So now when I tell you I have the hiv, you know of two different instances where I could have contracted it. And I just want to say, I love you all.

I must warn you, this story is not for the faint of heart. I was just telling this story to Jenn the other night and I remembered terrifying it was. And I though to myself, “Something this horrifying should be shared with the blogosphere.”

It was back in the day when I was living in New York. The BYU students were a couple blocks out of Harlem in Columbia’s dorms. I was on the eighth floor on the side facing away from Riverside Park.

It was a normal night. I went to bed in my closet of a room and fell asleep. I was woken up at about 4 a.m. to the most horrifying sound in the world. (Sidenote: If you know anything about me, you know I am a professional sleeper and don’t wake up for anything.) The sound I heard can only be described as a man getting hit it the knees with an aluminum bat, his body falling to the ground and then blood curdling screaming and yelling.

I have never been so scared in my life. I was on the eighth floor but I was sure whoever hit that dude with a bat was going to come upstairs and kill me. Luckily we had crazy security in our building. The screaming went on for a few minutes but it felt like forever.

Eventually the screaming stopped. So either the guy passed out from pain or left somehow.

The next morning I found out that it happened on the opposite side of the building from me on the edge of Riverside Park. Yet it sounded like the guy was screaming in my ear.

If you thought the fear stopped there, you’re dead wrong. The next night, my friend Mike and I were watching House in his room as we did every night. We looked out his window overlooking Riverside Park and there were tons of police cars with their lights on. Then there were all these cops looking all through the park with flashlights.

We still have no idea what they were looking for. But considering the surrounding happenings, I’m going to go with body parts. Gew. :/

But in the words of John Candy, “We can laugh about it now. We’re all right.”

In the words of a great friend and brother, “It’s time to make a quilt.” “Wow, that sounds lame,” you might be saying to yourself. Oh, how wrong you are. Making quilts is what some people do, we’ll call him Josh C. Superstar to protect his identity, when you need something to take your mind off the pain in your chest that evidences itself in random bouts of crying. Josh once made the best quilt in the world after one of the many times my sister broke up with him.

At this point, I have nothing else to do but “make a quilt.” Sure, I don’t have any quilting supplies but I’m going to keep myself busy in other ways to keep my mind off things.

My first step was singing in the Institute choir. I only did this because I thought that was all you had to do to get into the choir that will be singing in General Conference. Turns out you actually have to be enrolled in Institute to be in the Institute Choir. Absurd! So now I am enrolled in Institute. Then I found out you actually have to audition. What the?! Auditions are this Thursday. We’ll see how this goes. I’m hoping it works out, if only to have something else to occupy my mind during the week.

What I’m most excited about is …. drum roll please ….. Drum lessons! That’s right, drum lessons. My sister Kris got me lessons for Christmas and I am crazy excited. It was really the perfect gift. I don’t know why, but when I was like 15 years old I decided I was a great drummer. Had I ever touched drums? No. But I was sure of it. Now we’re about to find out if I was right. This could be a huge disaster, but it’s going to be the best! Thanks, Kif!

I also have about 800 books to read, my new ukulele to break in and perhaps some buzz.io work. There’s my quilt. I’m feeling better about 2010 already.

….. But at least it was long.

I knew 2009 was up to no good. I could feel it in my bones. There’s something about that shady 9 at the end.

I used to think my Freshman year of high school was bad when everyone discovered I looked like Christina Ricci and had a butt that only large black men could love. In retrospect, what a wonderful year that was. Nothing that a few trips to the tanning salon and dance classes for 5 hours every day couldn’t fix.

But not 2009. I didn’t really notice until the other day when I was reviewing the year. Boy, this one has been a beast! It started out horribly – some of you may remember this …. Jenn – and then it got worse from there. Let me enumerate why:

1. Dumped for the first time ever (they don’t call me “Cari ‘love em and leave em’ Stewart” for nothing)  – It didn’t help that it also happened on my birthday. The thing was, I saw it coming from a mile away, which made it sufficiently slow and excruciating. Don’t worry, I’ve since healed.
2. Tons of great job interviews that went nowhere – As you may know, I majored in advertising and also want to work in advertising. The economy has left me, how you say, high and dry. Rest assured, I do have a job. It’s not the one I want, but it’s a job nonetheless. The only sanity I have during the day is my good friend Mr. John Wharff and a steady stream of Muse and Queen.
3. A chain of unsavory living situations – I’ve lived in three different places this year, the middle of which was the worst ever; the kind of place that wears on your soul. You know, the kind of place with paper thin walls where the people next door have frequent, insane sex within inches of your head. I wish that wasn’t literal. But since before New York, I haven’t lived anywhere that felt like home. I love this Kings of Convenience song “Homesick.” It makes me cry every time because it’s a little too familiar. The last lines of the song are the most poignant: “A song for someone who needs somewhere to long for. Homesick, cause I no longer know where home is.” (Sorry the video’s lame)
4. My car exploded – I was on the freeway and the timing belt broke. Two weeks and my savings account later, I had a moderately functioning car. Then a couple weeks later…..
5. My thyroid exploded – For details, see previous two posts.
6. Dumped for the second time – Unlike the previous break-up, this one can be compared to one of those insurance commercials. Everyone is happy talking about Christmas and flowers and then out of nowhere they get t-boned by some crazy driver. Well, that was me. I’m totally crazy about this guy. I’m talking legit, no-reservations crazy. For those of you who have been with me through my dating escapades, you know that doesn’t happen. Then out of nowhere it was over. Totally blindsided. One minute, I’m as happy as can be; my little heart is full and twitterpated. Then …. T-BONED. Heart: broken. I’ve never been so confused in my life. Luckily, I’ve since invested in some relationship insurance. The thing is, it doesn’t prevent the wreck.

   I’m just glad it happened now; what with the snow and gray skies and frigid air that freezes your soul and keeps you cooped up inside all day. It’s a recipe for mental wellness is what it is. If you’re wondering how I’m dealing, it requires regular and huge doses of Super Mario Bros. Wii. Those lava levels will make you forget your own name! And it always helps to listen to Muse’s FANTASTIC cover of “Feeling Good” a few times. It really does make me feel good and kind of mad at the same time.

So I sit here now with an 8-month-old scar and a new gaping wound on my heart, a scar across my neck, an average car, and the same resume with which I graduated.

This year has reminded me of getting caught in the riptide. I have a gift for identifying riptides, avoiding them, and immediately getting stuck in them for indeterminable amounts of time. You’re there treading water forever until you can muster enough strength to get yourself out only to find that you are stuck again puking up water and losing energy. Then eventually a nice surfer or lifeguard comes and saves your life. I’m just hoping it’s the tan surfer this time and not the girl lifeguard I’ve had in the past.

I’m almost positive that 2010 can’t be as bad as 2009. So I’m already off to a good start. But really, I’m determined to kick 2010’s butt. 2010 doesn’t know what’s coming! Because, you know what, It’s a new dawn, It’s a new day, It’s a new life For me… And I’m feeling good.

I’ll leave you with the scripture that has gone through my head a lot this year, Doctrine and Covenants 122:7 – “…. that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.”