Ladies

Vanessa

I was sitting on my bed painting my nails tonight and I realized something. The polish I slid onto my fingertips was familiar in a way. And I remembered that it's the same color Dylan's mom was wearing a few weeks ago when I talked to her about Hagley. There's a saying: "Boys fall in love with girls who remind them of their moms." I think that's true in this relationship. Mrs. Spence and I both love sweaters and history and cooking and Sound of Music and art and mint green nail polish and being good moms. I think it's funny actually that I never saw this before. I'm this unique mix of my mom (huggable and caring and a sea glass fanatic and faithful) and this woman I want to be. But tonight it just seems funny that Mrs. Spence knew to get me a stocking for Christmas, and bought me a sweater in my second favorite color, and always says hi like I'm meant to be there, with her son. It's quite unintentional, I don't mean to mimick her or be like her, but I'm finding more and more that we share a lot in common.
I haven't written a lot lately because too much has been going on, in my head, in school, blah blah blah excuses excuses. But I turn 18 in a few days, and I need to get it out. I've had my first kiss. I'm in love. And you know what, I'm gorgeous. These are things that have taken me a lifetime (literally) to be ok with. My dad wrote me an email on Christmas Eve and its lack of the phrase "I love you" really struck something in me. No matter how angry or hurt I get in my life, one thing I know I will always be able to do is love, and express my love. I want to go to college next year and work my butt off, stay with this boy who drives me crazy, and see where God takes me. I want to set up Advent candles in my house like the Spences and cook crab cakes for Girl Scout meetings. I want a hearth and a home, and tablecloths for different seasons.
If I'm certain of one thing, it's that I'm going to be a great mom. Because I want to be. I want to be a good mom and wife, and lady more than anything else. So I guess this is thanks to the women in my life who I tend to shadow. Mom, Mrs. Spence, Grammy, and GB. Laura, Alicia, Brittany, and Chloe. I love you. <3
Alicia and Mom threw me a surprise party tonight and I wore Laura's spoon ring, my GB's "B" pin, the necklace picture of Grammy, and my mom's gold earrings. I felt like I had all this beauty and energy and nurturing surrounding me. I guess Proverbs 31 really isn't unattainable after all.

New Year's Resolution

1. Believe in the beauty of myself.
2. Keep a clean room.
3. Don't interrrupt. Don't meticulously control and plan.

Hub-bub-baloo

Things that currently occupy every day of my life:

1. School (These AP classes will be the death of me)
2. Becker's (12 hours-ish a week)
3. Dylan (Thinking, dreaming, talking to, driving to see, seeing, and missing)
4. Clubs (NHS, Marksmanship, MUN, etc.)
5. Executive Officer (ugggggghhhhhh)
6. Applying for Scholarships
7. Facebook

Things that I feel I am neglecting these past few months and need to focus more on:
1. GOD (My prayer life is sad. Pray for me.)
2. Family (There's a downstairs to my house?)
3. Cleanliness (My room got run over by a tornado)
4. Camp (I haven't written/skyped/emailed back anyone in weeks/months and I HATE MYSELF for it).
Most nights I doubt I get enough sleep. I eat at the most irregular intervals. But you know what, this is not a complaint list. This is a mental note of things that I need to remember and work on. New Year's Resolutions are crap, but if new dimensions are being added to my life then I obviously also need to cut some things out.

Things to do this week:
CHRISTMAS SHOPPING!!!
Pass a physics class with some understanding.
Spend an evening with my family.
Not get sick. :(

Cherish. Believe

"Cherish your solitude. Take trains by yourself to places you have never been. Sleep alone under the stars. Learn how to drive a stick shift. Go so far away that you stop being afraid of not coming back. Say no whenever you don't want something. Say yes if your instincts are strong, even if everyone around you disagrees. Decide whether you want to be liked or admired. Decide if fitting in is more important that finding out what you're doing here. Believe in kissing." -Eve Ensler

Although I am not at all a fan of Eve Ensler, I really like this quote. But aside from the first through third sentences which speak to the little girl that lives inside my body, I counter her feminism by saying that I want a man to be there for all the rest of them. And each will come in their own time.

You make me want to dance barefoot through life.

Day 21 - A photo of something that makes you happy

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Story

It's been a year and a half. And I feel like Thanksgiving is as good a day as any to finally get everything down. So I'm not eliminating anything. Here's why yesterday was so hard for me.

July 7th 2009:
It was supposed to be the perfect day. My dad and I planned on fixing the windows in my room, because they needed new glass put in them. We got everything ready and he taught me how to put this cool putty stuff on them and smooth it down so that they aren't drafty. We finished that and I thought it was going to be a great day. There was one slight problem. Probably because I run around barefoot all summer, I had gotten an ingrown toenail on my right foot. I wanted it to heal itself and was terrified of having surgery. But my dad called my mom anyway despite my protests and scheduled an appointment for the next day. He said there was no arguing and that it had to be done. So I ran up to my room and slammed the door, layed down on my bed and opened a letter I had gotten from Alicia. He burst in my door, and having a history of screaming, lecturing, and belittling, I knew I was not going to listen. So I kept reading my letter, and told him I didn't want to talk. But my dad is very stubborn and approached me. It's hard to remember what happened next because I was scared, but I think he shoved me and took my letter, which I snatched back and crawled through the window to the roof that is outside my window (it was my favorite escape). I crawled to the side of the house and leaned against it as he shouted at me through the window. I told him I just wanted to be left alone, we could talk later. But the onslaught of abrasive words kept coming. I started screaming through my tears, and then because that wasn't working started cursing at him. I just didn't want to hear his voice anymore, yet it kept spewing venom at me. I crawled to the edge of the roof and he said that if I jumped it wouldn't matter because the hospital was only 45 minutes away and I wouldn't bleed to death by then. "Go ahead," he said, "do it." At some point my brother came into the room screaming that we should stop and all get along, and that I should come inside. My dad told him it was none of his business and to leave. The screaming continued. I accidentally dropped my letter over the edge, in my shakiness. I tried to come back inside, and stuck my leg through the window where he was leaning out, but he shoved it back saying I was not coming in like that. I recoiled at his touch and he held onto my leg, the window slammed down on my shin and I started crying again. He pushed me back. I scurried over to the edge again. He left the window finally and I sat crying to God, begging him to save me. Then I saw my dad down in the yard picking up my letter, and I wasn't going to let him have it. I climbed through the window, ran downstairs through the living room, and in my haste falling on my face because of the slippery hardwood. I ran outside and confronted him by the grapevines. I demanded my letter. He smirked and started walking away with it crumpled in his hand. I smacked his chest, and he back handed me across the face so hard that I fell on the ground. In my barefeet, I got up, and sprinted to the pond in the pasture, sitting on the spillway bridge for what seemed like forever. No one came to get me. When I got back he was on the phone with my mom and telling Lizz how I needed to leave. I began packing my things (knowing the consequence of my actions was being kicked out, from previous experience). As I packed all my things into boxes, he told me I was never allowed back there. I must have carried 4 loads of my stuff to my mom's car that afternoon. And I have not heard from my dad since.

So there it is, laid out for myself and the world. I only do this to show the facts. I know you can look at the scenario and point out all the things that I have done wrong. Trust me, I have. I never should have cursed at my father or hit him, it was beyond disrespectful. I should not have been upset about the surgery. I should have just listened and been upset when he left. But in my life, most often I apologize first when I am wrong. Rarely does anyone apologize to me. RARELY. And the first time I was told to leave his house, I called him after 4 months and he begrudgingly took me back, but only after scolding me. He's never once apologized. So yes, I was wrong. But so was he. And no one but he and I can understand the emotions and the exchanges of that day. No one can tell me reasonably to just relax and get over it. I almost jumped that day. And you know what stopped me? I didn't think anyone would care, and I wanted God to be my focus.

So finding out from Dylan that Robert had invited him and some others over there upset me. Places hold memories, and memories hold emotions, and that farm holds a multitude of sorrows for me. But most of all, and the simplest for you to understand is: I'm jealous. What right do they have to have fun in a place that is so painful for me? I know every tree on that property, I know every grave too. I know all the secret hiding spots, and I built things there. I love that farm. It kills me EVERYDAY that I can't go back there; but my boyfriend can. It's hurtful and painful and confusing. So I spent all day in tears. I just fought with my brother on Thanksgiving of all days over it. I'm a wreck and I know it, and I tend to show it every chance that I get. But maybe if you've read this, you'll be a little more sympathetic.

I don't want to fight anymore.
I just want my dad to call me, tell me he loves me, and that most of all, he's sorry.

Mandrakes and Bogarts

Day 9 – A photo of the item you last purchased.
To my girls Brittany, Chloe, Laura, and Joanna.

What better in the world to make yourself feel better and get a boy out of your head than to buy new heels. I present to you, today's indulgences:


Chloe: <3
I think if I ever faced a boggart it would probably turn into an ugly old lonely hag because I'm afraid of failing all alone. So I'd cast riddikulus and imagine Regis crowning her Miss America while silmultaneously giving her the Nobel Peace Prize. Umm, because I can.
Also, mandrakes are cute...not annoying. Think: pink fuzzy ear muffs.

Your name appears SO many times in the journal I kept in 2009.
I'm writing in it again.
And you did love me. I wrote it down.
What's happened to us?

If you want me, come and get me.
I deserve to be pursued.
I'm a princess.

It's taken me this long

to find someone with whom I am comfortable holding hands. Whose arm doesn't feel awkward around my waist or my shoulders. Whom I trust.
I've never been nor doubt I will ever be a very physical person. I'm the kind of girl who cares so much about glances, words that are spoken and unspoken, and reassurances. The never been kissed.

So maybe I'm strange or maybe it's unnatural, but I feel like getting slightly admonished today for having a back ache and Dylan massaging it at lunch has completely taken me down a level of comfortability. It's like every nerve in my body has recoiled.

Society messes us up. They flash millions of images a day at us that feature kissing, hugging, sensuality, and confidence. But then in reality it is often frowned upon. So in the course of a week (and more because this is a lifelong thing), I have heard "Public displays of affection are natural and important in a relationship." "Stay away from him." "oooooh they're holding hands.", "Are you sure?" and "Are you ok?" 50bajillion times. No I'm not okay; stop asking. What is ok? Because right now all I am good at is questioning myself.
Would someone please tell me what is wrong with me?
I over think things, and they linger. Just like your touch.

Day 11 - What's in your makeup bag?

Lips:
Clinique Different Lipstick in Angelic
L'Oreal Paris Infallible Never Fail Lipgloss in Modern Mauve
-OR-
Almay Ideal Lipstick in Berry
Almay Ideal Gloss in Wine

Eyes:
Clinique Lash Doubling Mascara in Black
Almay Liquid Liner in Brown -OR-
Almay Intense i-color eyeliner in Ash

Out of many eyeshadows my favorites include:
CoverGirl Eye Enhancer 3 shadow kit in Curtain Call
Maybelline Expert Eyes Eye Shadow in The Suedes

Remover:
Avon Moisture Effective Eye Makeup Remover Lotion

Blush/Foundation/Concealer:
e.l.f. mineral blush in coral (which I rarely wear because of JFS)
e.l.f. tone correcting concealer
NYC Smooth Mineral Loose Finishing Powder in Natural Veil

Perfumes:
Love's Baby Soft
Bath and Body Works Mist in Butterfly Flower or Clean Cotton
Bodycology
MaryKate and Ashley LA

I usually don't wear makeup, or if I do it's the simple mascara swipe in the morning and a few applications of lipstick throughout the day. I've never gone into a store soley to buy makeup, though I'd love to spend some money in Sephora or MAC. My favorite lipstick is one that my granny got for free and didn't like. My eyeliner is from her too. I have mascara because I told my mom that I was adult enough to wear it. No one ever really told me how to put on eyeshadow so that it is flattering. I'm a RED lipstick girl, though you'll really never see me wear it because people tell me it's slutty. But at home alone I sometimes do. I absolutely adore lipstick, because that feeling of having a little something extra on your lips to look beautiful is really appealing to me. I reapply it like 10 times a day. What are your thoughts on makeup? I'm a newbie. There was a time when all I was allowed to wear was clear mascara (felt like glue) and LipSmackers chapstick.

Day 7 - Your dream wedding

And here is the part of my blog where I claim poetic license/creative freedom/ whatnot and jump around because I have SO much to say about education (Day 5) and too slow of fingers. So here's to fantasies.
I've had an idea of what my wedding will be like since I was little. Here's a little bit of fun piecing it together for you to see. :)

Everything starts with the dress: It's my day to be beautiful. And the J. Crew Daphne dress from Fall 2006 isn't being made any more, but I WILL have it. Or something better. (If I can't have the Daphne, I want a lace back. See the second photo).

The veil: Definitely either a classic Mantilla or a birdcage. I think that the Mantilla is more stunning, but it really doesn't go well with the dresses I want. So a birdcage would probably be my choice, because it's classy (if worn correctly) without being too modern for my tastes:

I know that I either want to be a May or November bride. I love love love autumn, as I have discussed on here before, but my inclinations are also towards and outdoor chapel wedding or reception. I have a friend named Allison, whose wedding to her husband Noah was basically everything I picture mine to be. A few of my favorite things about her wedding were that she and Noah picked apples as gifts for their guests, they had sunflowers as their theme flower, the men wore natural colors like beige and brown, everything was simple, she got married at Camp in Beth-El Chapel.
I either want Gerber Daisies, Poppies, or Sunflowers depending on my color scheme:

Food? Easy:

mac and cheese, iced tea, maybe some chicken or pork roast, salad. mmm mmm mmm
Cake:
Probably either Red Velvet with Cream Cheese icing or an Apple Spice cake.


Marriage is important to me. Weddings are something every little girl spends hours dreaming over. But for my family, they haven't always worked out. I live my life trying to be as honest as possible. I pride myself on knowing how painful lies are. So when I get married, I'm playing for keeps. I'll be yours if you'll always be mine. :)

Stuck in Limbo

I'm writing things down because it's quite obvious I can't form thoughts with you around.
And not saying much of a coherent sentence all night left me driving home with the radio up so loud that it hurt my ears, screaming lyrics that bear no meaning and crying as I slammed my fist against the empty passenger seat. I'm definitely not angry at you. You're wonderful.

I'm angry at Samantha Aubrey Moreland: who she is, who the world sees her as, what she does, and most of all her brain. I'm livid with all of them. I'm mad at me.

I bake you cookies. I love your family. I come up with interesting things to do. I laugh. I smile. I let you tickle me, even when I want to be alone.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

and you not feeling the same about me makes me question myself. my understanding of love. and the reality of what my heart is beating into my brain so bluntly.
Maybe the fact that you're one of the first people I've let myself be honest with and trust is what kills me so much about "I really like you." Maybe how hard I try to see the future realistically has made me resent the idea of giving in without something more than that. Maybe Brittany is right and I don't know what love is, or that it's really irrelevant (loved the Carrie blog btw Bree.) And if you can say it to Courtney, then why can't you say it to me? Aren't I important? or WORTH IT?

I say I hate you because then I don't feel so silly when you don't say I love you back. And you know that. But it helps to write it down. So I'm lying when I say I hate you.

You're right. I'M NOT COMFORTABLE IN MY OWN SKIN. and that shouldn't be your problem. But it is. Because it affects my ability to give the control to someone else. I control everything. And that's because I can't push a button and choose my weight or my complexion or my hairstyle or the way I come across to people. Your words ring empty to me because I've only ever known hurt and being pushed on the playground. And you're the first to see something else. The real me.

"Trying to be perfect
Trying not to let you down
Honesty is honestly
The hardest thing for me right now"

You get me. And that's hard for me to let happen. That's why I argue with you. That's why I tell you I want to be mysterious. But all I really want is for you to take my fears and throw them away, grab my hand and kiss my lips. But I'm scared. and I'm worried. and I'm controlling. And you're not in love with me.

Einstein is right, I am insane. I expect different results. But when you really think about it, we're not the same people as before. We've grown and adapted and learned. I still need to hear why it was mutual for you. I need to tell you that you're perfect in every way except your faith. And you know that. But it's not even a flaw to me. It's my flaw, because yet again I want to control and change it.

So you see, it's me not you. And I wish I wasn't so crazy about you, BUT I AM. I LOVE YOU.
And so much more....

Day 4 - Your favorite photo(s) of your best friend

Alicia Laws I adore you. <3 <3
Lloyd, you're the greatest.And this? Well of course this had to be included:

Day 3 - Your Idea of the Perfect First Date

As first dates go, I've been pretty lucky. The only issue being that I wish I hadn't been the one to plan all the romantics.
We drove to Balitmore, playing padiddle and punch buggy. Walked around the Inner Harbor holding hands. Then drove to Home Depot for no reason. Picked out funny paint chip colors and then went to the park to play on the slippery playground freshly coated in rain. I don't know if it was necesarily a first date, but I think so. That was my intent. And it was basically the perfect day.
But if I had to choose, and lay out the game plan; honestly I would want him to surprise me. There are so many cute date ideas out there: picnics, board game days, cooking together, etc. I hate the idea of everything being monotonous and similar. Go to his house, watch a movie, the attempted kiss, the awkward no that follows. But the really incredibly adorable dates are the ones that aren't planned out to the nines, are spontaneous, and have a little bit of romance. Show me something that you like. Something important to you. Because I want to know. I've always (and will always) stick to the idea that there's no chance at long term relationships if they are based on the physical aspect. You have to be able to sit across the room from the other person, not touching, and still feel completely connected. Not want to stop talking, or to understand each other even amidst silence. Dates should be special. Just like presents are better if they are homemade (like mixed cd's or cards or something written). And oh yeah, it's nice to hear that the outfit I spent hours picking out, and the makeup I put on, and the products my hair is covered in were not in vain. Compliment me. Because goodness knows I praise you enough daily. :)
So go ahead, SURPRISE ME FOR ONCE.
Take me dancing.
Build me a pillow fort.
Teach me how to work on my car.

Day 2 - Your Favorite Movie

SEVEN BRIDES FOR SEVEN BROTHERS (1954) Starring: Howard Keel and Jane Powell

I adore technicolor era films (1930s-60s). But musicals and lumberjacks and pretty dresses and dance/fight scenes combined make me swoon. This is an absolutely perfect musical in all formats and the plot is impeccable. I find it really exciting that all of the men are redheads, all the women long to be June brides, and all of the fathers are protective. This movie has always really resonated with me. The frontier lifestyle, and Milly's care to tame the brothers are admirable.

Some of my other favorites include but are definitely not limited to: Guys and Dolls, Penelope, Pride and Prejudice, Real Genius, Benny and Joon, The Other Sister, and Into the Wild. This year I really wanted to work with my AP Lit teacher to start a partial credit film club open to seniors, but it seems that our schedules might make that kind of impossible. She has a baby boy, and I have my stressful schedule, but alas the thought is nice. In college (which I got my first acceptance to today) I want to take as many film courses as possible. Maybe some French, and Film Noir.

My National History Day project, you might recall, was on the invention of the Kalmus Technicolor Corp. film process. It was incredibly facinating. Technicolor created an inexpensive market for large scale productions to be shot in. Snow White was one of the first Disney films that used the process. And Gone with the Wind was the longest and most well known movie that utilized the process.

Day 1 - Your favorite song

The song doesn’t explain. The song witnesses.” E. Peterson

Well for the yearbook I put, The Dangling Conversation by Simon and Garfunkel. But there are so many good inspiring beautiful wonderful songs in the world that it is hard to choose. So here's my rundown:
Classic: Udan Hulu by Olafur Arnalds
Folk: Berkely Springs by Don Ross
Ours: Ocean Wide by the Afters

Music is such a major part of my life. I've always found it to be the perfect oultet of emotion. I miss playing my violin so very very much, and wish it wasn't broken right now. But I've attempted to learn guitar as well and there is just no time for it in a day. I especially enjoy music that people don't know much about. Like Wrock (wizard rock) and All Caps or Skyway Flyer. Nerdcore, Victory Shoes, etc. We all have a song. Though it may change daily, our hearts hum the tune incessantly.

30 Day Challenge

Day 1 — Your favorite song
Day 2 — Your favorite movie
Day 3 – Your idea of the perfect first date.
Day 4 – Your favorite photograph of your best friend.
Day 5 – How important you think education is?
Day 6 – A photo of an animal you’d love to keep as a pet.
Day 7 – Your dream wedding.
Day 8 – A song to match your mood.
Day 9 – A photo of the item you last purchased.
Day 10 – A photo of our favorite place to eat.
Day 11 – What’s in your makeup bag?
Day 12 – Your current relationship, if single discuss how single life is.
Day 13 – Your views on drugs and alcohol
Day 14 – A TV show you’re currently addicted to.
Day 15 – Something you don’t leave the house without.
Day 16 – Your view on homosexuality.
Day 17 – How you hope your future will be like.
Day 18 – 5 things that irritate ME about opposite/same sex
Day 19 – Your reflection in the mirror
Day 20 – The meaning behind your blog name.
Day 21 – A photo of something that makes you happy.
Day 22 – A letter to someone who has hurt you recently.
Day 23 – 15 facts about you.
Day 24 – A photo of something that means a lot to you.
Day 25 – Who are you?
Day 26 – A photo of somewhere you want to go.Day 27 – What kind of person attracts you?

Progressive Free Fall

I've resorted....

I've resorted to inadvertantly sucking my thumb, curled up in bed, wishing I could read minds.
"I like when we sit next to each other and your legs fit perfectly against mine.
I like when our feet (or hands) bump and we don't apologize.
I like when you smile at me.
I like this comfort.
I like this closeness."
I like you."

Hillsdale College Essay

Discuss how an event, novel or experience has significantly influenced you or has changed your life.

History is my passion. This absolutely does not mean that I live my life in the past. Quite the contrary, I find it necessary to live in the moment and experience history being made. These are some reasons that led me to sit on a school bus for two hours this August with a motley crew of enraged patriots and interested civilians as we travelled from Delaware to Washington D.C. at 3:00 AM. The date was August 28, 2010. We were headed to the Restoring Honor Rally at the Lincoln Memorial. Arriving shortly after 5:00, we were far from being front row onlookers. With jumbotrons and sound system set up for the entire length of the reflecting pool, my family along with the other Delawareans set up our folding chairs as close to the pool as possible, glad when the sun came out that we had chosen an alcove under the shade of some trees. The event was influential to me not because of the speeches, or the fact that I was less than a football field away from Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin, but because of the United States Citizens that I was surrounded by. I met an 11 year old girl that day named Alicia. She was too short to see over the crowd so my dad had her stand on his chair and steady herself with a hand on his shoulder. It astounded me that a girl of 11 would be at a political rally and in addition, be fascinated and excited by all of the hoopla surrounding her. Her mother wanted her daughter to experience history being made. And history was certainly made when over 250,000 people flooded the monument and even began dotting the hill below the Washington Monument. As the entire crowd stood for a rousing rendition of the National Anthem, a flock of geese flew over the pool in missing man formation and it was as if the country had hope of unity in that moment of patriotism. To be quite honest, the speeches bored me, and I could not see the screen for all of the heads in front of me. Yet, this event changed my life because it showed me in human tangible form that there is a sense of pride that only our nation can own and prosper. As we walked back to the buses, we were met by the Al Sharpton march and some opposition. Instead of hurling insults back at these uninformed protesters, sporting signs like: “Glenn Beck is a terrorist”, a woman in our group suggested we say the Lord’s Prayer. We did. I saw Black Panthers and Communists and radicals that day, and I finally figured it all out. The people that journalists write about are real live breathing human beings, with emotions and hearts the same as you and I. My life has been changed by knowing that differences are tangible and backed by as much passion as I have for history.

Cable Knit Stockings

I am in love with the idea of Claire Colburn. "And I saw it immediately. We're the substitute people. I've been the substitute person my whole life. I'm not an Ellen. I never wanted to be an Ellen. And I'm not a Cindy either…I like being alone too much. I mean, I'm with a guy who is married to his academic career. I rarely see him and I'm the substitute person there. I like it that way. It's a lot less pressure."
Last night I tried to knit one of these. But I got messed up with the color work. However, I did learn to stockinette and purl. I also had a lot of fun. and that's what counts
It's my favorite season. I'm going to wear my cowboy boots today and my grey sweater stockings. and be charming.
Because all that I need or want to say, doesn't come out in my writing anymore, so I'm going for a walk.

I should be excited for Lloyd, but I'm selfish.
I should understand physics, but I'm lazy.
I should be able to forgive, but I'm stubborn.
I would talk to you about this, but you don't care.

Picture Mail

Dad:

Mom:


Laura:

Lloyd:


Dylan:


Brittany: This was me before I found you.

Also, update on Grammie. She got released from the hospital and taken back to the Assisted Living home she lives at. But thank you for your prayers, keep them coming.
So much on my mind to write about, but it's way too late tonight.

The Battle Rages On

Grammie had a seizure this morning.
I went to visit her last night with my mom and we knew she was worse than usual.
I couldn't stop crying when I got into the car. and now I can't stop, sitting in my room.
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will direct your paths” Proverbs 3:5-6
I'm trying.

An Education

Headmistress: Nobody does anything worth doing without a degree.
Jenny: Nobody does anything worth doing WITH a degree. No woman anyway.
Headmistress: So what I do isn't worth doing? Or what Miss Stubbs does, or Mrs. Wilson, or any of us here? Because none of us would be here without a degree. You do realize that, don't you? And yes, of course studying is hard and boring...
Jenny: Boring!
Headmistress: I'm sorry?
Jenny: Studying is hard and boring. Teaching is hard and boring. So, what you're telling me is to be bored, and then bored, and finally bored again, but this time for the rest of my life? This whole stupid country is bored! There's no life in it, or color, or fun! It's probably just as well the Russians are going to drop a nuclear bomb on us any day now. So my choice is to do something hard and boring, or to marry my... Jew, and go to Paris and Rome and listen to jazz, and read, and eat good food in nice restaurants, and have fun! It's not enough to educate us anymore Ms. Walters. You've got to tell us why you're doing it.

Indulgences/Philosophy

"You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded"

Recently, I've been having a lot of bad days. The ones that just leave a bad taste in your mouth. And today on my drive home from school and the Doctor's office, I was thinking about how days change, and moods come and go. I realized that lately whenever I'm upset I indulge. The day I came home from a summer at camp, I bought myself a dress I will probably never wear but fell in love with. On Sunday I bought things at the Harvest Moon Festival, thinking they might help ease me into the long haul before the marking period ends. I had Taco Bell for dinner last night because I felt like I had been good about organization that day. Today was terribly upsetting and I was mopey, etc. So on the way to my appointment I stopped at Happy Harry's and bought Arizona iced tea and the 25th Anniversary edition of ELLE magazine (trash magazines are great for bad days). Sitting in the car, travelling through rush hour traffic, I had my radio up super loud with the bass on all the way. At Happy Harry's I checked out with this ordinary looking guy named Derrick. There was nothing particularly special about him. But I was worried what opinion he would form about me in my Navy uniform, buying fashion mags and tea. He gave me a military discount. I told him that he made my day. He did. So being the abstract thinker I am, I started contemplating those things that make us happy in life. Pick-me-ups. Given a rotten mood, we turn to material items believing they might make us feel better. But sadness and frustration are mental, so therefore it seems reasonable to conclude that material things are only gateways to thoughts about life, which then make us happy or stay stagnant. I love watching people. They fascinate me. Today I pondered whether the red Toms or Hogwarts backpack I saw on 2 UD girls were their indulgences, and had made them happy today, like seeing them had for me. What do people notice about me that makes them smile, is their pick-me-up? So I guess the point of writing this all down is to say that, when days are bad, we SEARCH for something good. Just the same as when we don't like something/someone, there is ALWAYS something good we can find in them, even if it takes coaxing. Perception is an interesting concept, that I believe ties in directly with indulgence.
What have you indulged in lately?


Here's me:
-listening to grooveshark before school
-Doritos
-Tea and magazine
-turning the bass up on my radio
-Facebook/blogs I read regularly
-watching Glee on Hulu
-BBW Butterfly Flower perfume
-Lg. Orange Julius
-extra nachos
-afternoon snacks

Indulgence can be bad too. It can lead to routines, expenses, solitude, and creating enemies. You can probably think of your own examples. So while these simple things make me happy, sometimes I HAVE to pull myself away from them. Let me explain. Sometimes, you need just one thing to make you smile. The other day, it was bringing home a carton of fresh strawberries. But when that thing ceases to be pleasing, you fall back into the same patterns and sometimes it's detrimental to you knowing that you spent money, time, etc. on something that rots in the end. Life is moldy strawberries.

But Glee reminded me today,
God never makes mistakes. That's what I believe.

She's pretty and she's nice

Last night was homecoming. It was awkward being greeted by almost all of Sean's family. But he looked nice, and we matched. It was cute. After I loosened up a bit the dance was pretty good too. Sean and I danced together for only maybe 3 songs. Mostly I danced with my girlfriends. Brittany looked gorgeous and she and I learned how to dougie from Lloyd. I also did the shopping cart. Then the drama started and I'm pretty sure Dylan thinks I stole his date, when in all actuality, she just didn't want to dance with him. She found another guy (and she's not from our school). Come on, put some clues together honey. We went to Denny's at 11 and took up basically half the restaurant. A cop even came to monitor. Connor and I shared nachos, and I scored Lloyd's nachos when he left. Then Sean drove me home and I fell asleep at about 2am. Whew
Today was the Harvest Moon Festival at Coverdale Farms. It was cold and windy, but at times, the perfect autumn day. I was in charge of making "Chicken Sun Visors" with kids. It was basically a glue stick craft where they glued on a beak, cock's comb, and 2 eyes, and then colored them. They were pretty adorable, if not a pain to make in the wind. After my volunteer shift I walked around and bought some fresh strawberries (3.95), a loaf of Mushroom Swiss bread (6.75), and 6 honey straws (1.00). These are part of my favorite things about autumn!

Tonight I'm going to The Melting Pot with Ben and his family for his birthday dinner. Whoa, expensive! I've never been invited to a dinner like that. eeek.

A Selection

Some of my favorite parts of my failed NANOWRIMO attempt last year:
First paragraph:
The Technicolor on the screen was displeasing to her and in all of her life this was the first time that feeling had ever taken root in her heart. She was tired, and the bags under her eyes only glorified more so the zombie-like existence she had become accustomed to as of late. As Frank Sinatra danced across her vision singing about Dolls and wearing a red carnation on his suit jacket, she felt tenderly the ridges covering her scalp; the scarred ridges that had taken the place of once silky reddish golden hair. They came from the stitches. Dropping her hand suddenly she felt ashamed sitting there with her knees tucked to her chest, the obnoxious polka-dot pajama pants unable to hide her protruding kneecaps. The skin on her hands was paler than usual and the term “day walker” could certainly be utilized by the teasing tongues of high school boys in this instance. Felicity LaHaye was an obvious victim of situational realism. The point in your teenage life where you realize that what you naively wish for isn’t always and probably shouldn’t be the planned direction of your own life. Her 11:11pm wish that day was indeed quite simple.
And so on:
On the TV screen in her darkened living room Marlon Brando and Jean Simmons were locked in a kiss so passionate it caught her attention back from that horrific memory. She wanted to vomit. She hated that she hated this scene now, when she used to fantasize about it in study hall all the time. Now all she wanted was for Marlon Brando to fall into the fountain and for the bells to give them both migraines. Felicity grabbed the package of golden Oreos next to her and the container of Nutella from the coffee table in front of her. As she moved, the muscles in her back ached and she groaned. These groans made her feel even more like the living dead.
...
“Where’s the Mountain Dew?” Dylan always made his grand entrance with an announcement about food. He was predictable too. Seeing it sitting on my bookshelf he grabbed the 2 liter and started to chug. “Hey leave some for me mister!”
...
Sitting back down on his chair while already drinking from his glass his eyes smiled at me over the rim and I felt warmer. In the entire world there could not possibly be one like my baby brother. His idiosyncrasies could be the bane of my existence one day and then the next they’d be all that kept me going. Throughout this entire ordeal he’d been right by my side. And I hoped that he never felt any regrets for driving us home that day. He’s my warrior. Yes a warrior that may sometimes decide argyle is the manliest pattern, that the Arkansas Chuggabug should have won the Wacky Races by default coolness, and that Canadian Mounties had excellent uniforms, but still a warrior with superb taste. I would never blame him for what happened. We shared the bond of having our ribs broken at the same time. That’s deep love.

A letter. A true letter

Dear Claire,

'What' and ‘if’ two words as nonthreatening
as words come. But put
them together side-by-side and they
have the power to haunt you for the
rest of your life: ‘What if?'...

I don't know how your story ended.
But I know that if what you felt
then was love - true love - then
it's never too late. If it was true
then it why wouldn't it be true
now? You need only the courage to
follow your heart...

I don't know what a love like that
feels like... a love to leave loved
ones for, a love to cross oceans
for... but I'd like to believe if I
ever felt it. I'd have the courage
to seize it. I hope you had the
courage to seize it, Claire. And if
you didn't, I hope one day that you
will.

All my love,
Juliet

DKS

I kind of think I want him back. I never stopped loving him.
But that'd probably be a mistake for both of us.
So I'll just sit and watch a sappy movie, cry if the tears come out (they always do) and imagine his hand in mine. His eyes smiling at me. His heartbeat.
DKS, I miss you. But most of all I hate that you get me.
"Nothing we say is gonna save us from the fallout
You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand."

Today as I was driving to meet up with all the re-enactors at Perkins on Kirkwood Hwy I hit a squirrel. I was driving along, 35MPH and out of nowhere jumps this squirrel from the left side of the road. He zigged and zagged and I swerved so that my front didn't hit him. But then I heard a thud, looked in my rear view mirror and saw this gray furry squirrel army crawling to the edge, slowly, agonizingly. My back tire must have hit his back legs. And I'd like to take a moment to comment on the heroic nature of squirrels. Everyday, for some reason these creatures play constant games of extreme Frogger. However, unlike the much loved video game, the stakes are much higher. When they are hit, they crawl with their last ounce of strength. An attempt to push forward. That's what I like about squirrels...they're always going. A mile or two from where I hit the poor squirrel, I saw the carcass of another. Rigor Mortis had already set in and he was lying on his back with his arms in the air. An appeal, a dramatic frozen image of his last breath. I can picture his crawl, to the double yellow line, being unable to move on, rolling over and drawing his last breath, with a cry to heaven. Needless to say, this is what runs through my head as I drive along alone in the car. This isn't at all to say that I have any opinions on the animal soul debate, because I don't. But, I usually attribute human qualities to animals, because I feel like in a basic sense, they live and die the same as us. It's important to examine the world through different eyes and draw from other perspectives than your own.
On another note, today was the Battle of Brandywine reenactment. It was an awesome battle....the cannon fire and musket volleys were exceptional. Mr. Giansanti also tried to sell the girls to a German soldier as the British line over took that of the Continental. When I got out of the car this morning and gazed over the fields of the park we were at, rolling with hills and the tree line dotted with early fall changes, I breathed in deeply the scent of autumn. It was gorgeous (and that word hardly does this scene justice.) It drizzled/fully rained for a lot of the day, but we stole the boy's Regimental wool coats to stay warm and it was nice. We shopped around in the sutlers and became thoroughly disheartened at the prices, but were enjoying ourselves. This reenactment was the biggest one I have been to (soldier wise). There were Native American reenactors painted red all over, a brilliant calvary for both sides that fought with swords, and at least 5 cannons. The smoke rings were so cool!

Thoughts

"I like making images that from a distance seem kind of seductive, colorful, luscious and engaging, and then you realize what you're looking at is something totally opposite. It seems boring to me to pursue the typical idea of beauty, because that is the easiest and the most obvious way to see the world. It's more challenging to look at the other side." -- Cindy Sherman