Stoic

Favorite things of this very moment (1:51 pm):

• The feeling of accomplishment from finishing Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
• Superpoke! on Facebook
• Eyeliner
• Spending money on things I don't really need
• Soft yarn

I have spent my morning (which was melded into my afternoon) thinking. Thinking too much. Over analyzing. Wanting to cry, but finding no tears. Feeling the need to throw up constantly. Fighting that dull, slow, horrid, wretched, completely miserable ache that I thought I'd finally been able to shake forever. Why I was stupid enough to believe that, I do not know.

I'm trying to convince myself that either: a) This girl means nothing. This "new friend Jenny" means absolutely nothing. Or b) That he means nothing to me.

B is total bull. TOTAL bull.

"A" on the other hand..."a." I can do nothing to prove anything about "a." I don't know if I even want to. Maybe I should remain delusioned. I mean, how long did I really think he was going to go on like this? No one should have to be alone for long. And he's been alone for about 3 or so years. Then again, so have I. Dang it.

And what do we have to show for these things? Nothing. Heartache. Lots and lots of heartache. I have more rejection than anyone should normally be able to cope with. So I'm being over-dramatic. So sue me. I don't care right now. I'm just hurt.

To be honest, I'm angry. I feel hopeless and this annoys me. I know things will work out. I know that I should trust in God because He's got this worked out somehow.

I'm angry because if he's not the right guy, I may have let the right guy get hurt by this point. I might have hurt him and lost a very valuable chance, but eh...

No regrets, dang it.

And how can I fight for him? I want to fight for him. But how can I do that? I don't now this "new friend Jenny." I don't know who she is or her intentions. I don't even know his intentions for sure at this point, so it's kind of irrelevant, but still...You're supposed to be able to fight for the ones you love. There I said it. LOVE. But I really don't even want to say that. Because if I can't keep him forever, I don't want to give him a word that exerts more power and importance than anything else at all...

I'm losing my mind. Or am I? bwahaha. Sorry, I had to throw that in there. Somehow, you just have to lighten the mood.

"Still don't have a reason..." *dances incredibly badly around the library*

And I'm off...

Morbid Daydreams, Road Construction, but I'm Not on Drugs...

Favorite things of this very moment (9:06 pm):

• Casino Royale ...oh Daniel Craig, how wonderful you are
• Portable cd players with wonderful outer noise eliminating headphones
• Incubus. Yes, glorious Incubus. Brandon Boyd, your voice will never cease to make me feel better about all that is life...
• The concept of relationship evaluations (monthly, possibly even weekly)
• dry, comfy, soft socks
• Fiji water bottles filled with water from my handy-dandy fridge
• Nathaniel Hawthorne's short stories (Nikky, you need to read "Young Goodman Brown" and tell me what you think of it)

I got caught in the most ridiculous construction annoyance ever on the way home today. I thought they would be done for the day because it was a little after 5 (usually they're gone), so I drove home on the main road. Big mistake. I got past all hope of turning around and suddenly was confronted with 3 miles of construction, being followed by a homicidal maniac (at least that's how all his weaving in and out of traffic in a completely stupid reckless matter made him seem) in a large green truck, with the smell of fresh tar filling the air. Ugh.

I called Jay and warned him to go out of town literally anyway but the normal route of taking 64 because, I told him, he didn't want to get stuck in the most retarded traffic crazed area EVER. I disgusted myself in the way I sounded incredibly valley girl meets bookworm...ee.

When I got home I kept hearing Dad's box go off. All sorts of accidents or something today. All I could think was, what if he gets into one of those accidents on the way home. Will they announce that there is a 24 year old really tall blond guy in need of an ambulance? "He's about 5'18", keeps saying something about how a girl told him to come this way instead of the normal way, says he hates her and wishes she could see him bleeding all over the road. I think he said *pauses and the operator can hear mumbling from injured individual in the background* Yes--he said he wants to talk to Jamie, wait *pauses again mumbling gets louder*--he said Jaymin. Hey, isn't that the name of one of the EMTs's daughters. Better call their house, see if someone can get ahold of her...*lowers voice* Wouldn't want the poor guy to have to lose the opportunity to say goodbye..."

I'm not going to go any further with that...Good grief, I'm morbid this week. Dave Eggers is starting to infiltrate my already overly-analytical, cynical mind. After I finish reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius I'm going to have to read something really light and fully of silliness. The books is gorgeous and glorious, but I am definitely going to need something non-committal after this.

Yeah...and on that note: good night.

Eternity In Every Moment

Favorite things of this very moment (9:59 pm):

• Blank cds
• The Beck mix cd I just made (so far so good, I don't know if I like Beck or not yet...)
• Craft ideas in Family Fun magazine
• Jay's rants on text messaging's uselessness all the while he is text messaging people...haha
• When the moon takes up half of the sky
• The trailer for Across The Universe
• Glasses of ice tea...glorious

Why is that life doesn't come at you in easy to swallow pieces? It all seems to attack you at once. I remember once there was a Zits comic strip where Jeremy was being attacked by ducks that were each telling him something else he needed to deal with...that's me. My life is being nibbled away by ducks. Although, I gotta say, picturing it like that makes me laugh a little.

Yeah...it's been a LONG few days. Oh, and our freezer decided to die. The big one. So Mom and I had to find a way to get everything into the smallish upstairs freezer. Lovely. My mom is having a really horrible week. Which makes me a bit weird...and hence the return of escapist tendencies.

The end of this week cannot come soon enough.

Your Eyes

Sometimes I like to look deep into his eyes for minutes at a time. Sadly these eyes aren’t really looking back at me like I so often wish they were, but rather, staring out of a picture into a void where I am not. They simply stare into the lens of the camera…but on nights like this, it’s enough to fool me.
He has beautiful eyes, this boy. I should call him a man, but we’re still so young. In fact, he once told me he hoped he never really was looked at as completely grown up. He felt it was important to stay young. I agree with him, our innocence, ideals, and love should never grow old, but I can’t say I always want to be seen as a child. Not, of course, that this was what he meant, but…
Like I said, he has beautiful eyes. They are laughing eyes. The kind of eyes that always seem so kind and gentle and full of mirth. It overflows into his smile. I’m glad his eyes have this expression to them. It makes him so much more approachable and wonderful. Some people have beautiful smiles that never reach into their eyes and it’s this silence, this complete lack of emotion that makes them seem dead. As if part of their soul was missing. People with eyes like that terrify me, but not him…no, he has beautiful eyes.
It’s like that Peter Gabrielle song, Your Eyes:

Love, I get so lost sometimes
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
When I want to run away
I drive off in my car
But whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are

All my instincts, they return
And the grand façade so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

In your eyes
The light the heat
In your eyes
I am complete
In your eyes
I see the doorway
In your eyes
to a thousand churches
In your eyes
The resolution of all the fruitless searches
In your eyes
Oh, I see the light and the heat
In your eyes
Oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
The heat I see in your eyes

Love, I don’t like to see so much pain
So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired, working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you, to keep me awake and alive

And all my instincts, they return
And the grand façade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

In your eyes
The light the heat
In your eyes
I am complete
In your eyes
I see the doorways to a thousand churches
In your eyes
The resolution
In your eyes
of all the fruitless searches
Oh, I see the light and the heat
In your eyes
Oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
The heat I see in your eyes
In your eyes in your eyes
In your eyes in your eyes
In your eyes in your eyes
In your eyes in your eyes

I get so lost in his eyes. They fascinate me. I get so lost in them. In their possibilities. I look forward to every moment I know I will spend with him whether he is that excited or not. His energy and joy and laughter, they renew me. Knowing I will see him soon drives me toward my goals.
He is the “resolution to all the fruitless searches.” He could be the One. The One. This possibility scares the living daylights out of me, but I can’t deny it anymore than I can deny my own longing for it to be true. I want it to be him. So badly. I want him to be the resolution. The answer to my lonely nights and days.

But in a moment, this is all gone. No matter how long or how hard I look into your eyes, it doesn’t change the fact that that your beautiful eyes aren’t looking into mine. They never really knew me at the time the picture was taken. The picture was taken before I was part of your life, and as much I’d like believe, new pictures don’t see me any clearer.
I look into your eyes and realize that there is nothing there to mirror this desire. Instead, there’s a hunger and I know you’re still searching. And I remember that this is not mine to choose. I’m waiting, and the real question is…will I ever get to look into your eyes and see the love I have reflected back to me?

But those eyes…

Angel of Death

Favorite things of this very moment (7:16pm):

• Learning to risk falling hard
• AIM and its incessant blinking orange
• Nikky's fabulous ability to describe things
• Knowing prayer works
• Pomegranate & Lemon-aid mints: Restore
• The concept of a cocoa spa

Today, I feel like the fricking Angel of Death. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of death. I am tired of people around me, that I love dearly dying. Grandpa Thomas, both great-grandpas, little Jenny, Heather, Zuni, and Aunt Maxine....and now, dang it...what about Grandma. She could be gone at any time. She's 88 years old and not healthy, but I'm unwilling to lose her.

As selfish as it may sound...I want her to be alive to see me get married. Or at least engaged. I always figured Grandma would be the person to tell me I'd found the one...She would know. Just like she knew when Mom found Dad.

Then again, I always figured Zuni would be there to tell me I'd found a keeper. To tell me that this one treated me right, that he could see it in the guys eyes...this was the one for me. But he's gone too...

And what about Tyler? I barely have gotten to know him. He's too young. Too innocent and wonderful and full of life. All I can do is pray and pray and pray...I want him healed. And quickly...

Death, you ARE my enemy. I refuse to believe that you have an part in God. I refuse to believe that God kills any one. He restores and protects, but you Death...you are Satan's best friend. I refuse you. Do you hear me, Death? I REFUSE! You will not trap me into fear. I will not fear you because, I am going to win. I will fight you, and in the end, God will cast you out. Forever, you will not touch my forever. You will not put your shadowy fingers on the arms of the people I love anymore...you will be trampled. I am looking forward to that day with everything in me. I hope it comes soon. Very soon.

Sorry for how morbid this all sounds...it's been a long day.
It will get better. It will.

I Can Move You Like An Earthquake

Favorite Things of This Very Moment (7:27 pm):

• In This Diary which is a mix I made Mr. Laurent
• Ice tea in a tall Ohio State cup
• "Don't Move" by Butch Walker...this song pretty much makes everything worthwhile
• Uncertainty that also moves toward hope

I took a nap for about a half hour earlier. It's been an eternal day somehow, and I feel like it's been more like a whole week than just one day.

When I woke up this morning, I bribed myself with Jay. Telling myself that I would get to see him at church which was just one more reason I should wake up, that and the fact that sunshine was streaming in my window looking very inviting.

I couldn't eat breakfast because my adrenaline level was already so high that I was jittery. I had the mix for him in my purse, and that's all I could think of.

By the time Jay actually came into the church, I couldn't stop smiling. It was like my heart had overridden my common sense, kicked everything into overdrive and I was pretty much feeling like no matter what happened it could only end in good.

After practice, I handed him the mix and walked off before he could say anything else. He looked very surprised.

Church pretty much flew by. It was beautiful. I tripped Kayla on accident in front of a bunch of people and yet no one seemed to notice which was hilarious. We sang "Blessed Be Your Name," and for whatever reason, it totally broke my heart singing it. Memories I had successfully mastered were suddenly there. They were just floating around in my head and I couldn't stop crying. The amazing thing, I think, was the fact that I wasn't the only one crying and none of us felt bad about it. No one questions tears during that song. Never. And I am GLAD.

After church Jay thanked me for the mix twice and reminded me that he would have my mix done soon.

The real question is...will he see it for all that it is? Or will it just blow by, again.

I guess we just wait to see where it goes from here.

Oh Let Me Tell You a Story

“But I know about art and love, if only because I long for it with every fiber of my being.”
- Toulouse-Lautrec, Moulin Rouge

Some nights all I can do is wonder. A lot of it comes from the simple fact that I am tired, but also is partially because I can feel the loneliness trying to knock me down again.
Solitude seems to be something I slink back into far too often lately. I’ll spend half my evening with my family only to retreat to the sanctuary of my bedroom to play songs that only make the situation more obvious.

“She’s hiding.”
“No, she said she was writing something. You know, working on one of those projects of her’s.”
“I still think she’s hiding. Something is wrong.”
“Oh, you worry too much. She needs the quiet to think.”

My bedroom door is right off the living room and it does nothing to dispel the noise coming from the TV. This is why music can often be heard blaring from my room at any one point in the day. It’s all I can do to keep myself sane and finish a thought.
Now, there’s nothing wrong with my family watching TV and hanging out in the living room. On the contrary, it’s comforting to hear them out there. It means that I’m not alone…

I am tired. All I can do is think of him. I’m so tired of thinking only about him. Sometimes the music subdues the thoughts, but usually, as it’s doing tonight, it just elevates the issue.
He’s a musician. In each song, I can hear him singing, and in each song, I am singing to him. I can make anything become a song from me to him.
We sang together once. At a camp. He had been asked to lead the songs during the nightly campfire, and I knew the songs all by heart. Our voices blend so beautifully. He has a gorgeous tenor voice that is smooth as silk, but can drop down low to make each word stick in your mind. It makes me want to melt. I know if it ever is directed at me, I won’t be able to resist it.
Did I mention he plays guitar? That he writes his own music? He does. Right now he’s waiting for the mastered cd to be completely finished. All the artwork, the copies, everything…I get one of the first copies of the cd. He seemed surprised that I would want one, and I was surprised he didn’t know that I would want one.
I hang on his every word. Tell him how much I enjoy his music, his voice, everything. What more do I need to say?

Nights like this tend to break my heart. One more night without a phone call.
I asked him if he wanted to hang out with me sometime this weekend. Alright, so I sent this invitation via email, but still…
But if he called…what would I do?
I would instantly agree to any plan he would want to make. A movie? Great. Walk around town? Wonderful. Midnight trip to Walmart? My favorite. Tap dancing on BBQ’s? Splendid, I couldn’t love anything more.
And then the panic would start.

I’ve never had much experience in the arena of dating. To me, it seems a lot like being thrown to the lions, and if, by the grace of God, you are lucky enough to find an angel…you are the lucky one.
How does it all work? How am I supposed to keep up a conversation for the entirety of a date? Do you hold hands? As the woman, am I supposed to allow him to initiate any form of affection? Or do I reach for his hand during the movie?
And how do you know if it’s a date anyway? Any more, he could just want some company because he’s bored. Do I need to have him flat-out tell me that we’re on a date? Or is it simply implied because I personally need a flat-out explanation.

I’m ashamed to do it, but I have to quote Dr. Meredith Grey of Grey’s Anatomy because I find this quote to pretty much exactly sum it up:
Intimacy is a four syllable word for, "Here's my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburger, and enjoy." It's both desired, and feared. Difficult to live with, and impossible to live without.

I can’t decide what I am more scared of: him wanting me or him rejecting me.

I want him to want me. I need him to need me. I’d love him to love me…err. Sorry, it’s just that Cheaptrick really perfect sometimes. Those words totally apply right now. I do want him. And more than almost anything else, I want him to want me too.
Like I said before, I’m scared of him too. Let me try to better explain: he’s fricking perfect. Alright, that’s not true, but he does fascinate me and I’m just afraid that he’s going to realize, I’m really not. I’m just a girl who loves bright colors, but only wants to wear black. Who constantly fights with her weight, but never seems to win. A girl who loves to read books, but has yet to successfully finish any of her writing projects. Who aspires to be something great, but still hasn’t decided what avenue is necessary to attain greatness. I am still discovering me. Could I actually create a curiosity in him?

On the other hand, rejection is what I am expecting. I realize a defeatist attitude is not a healthy one to carry in life, but my luck in love has been slim. I am nothing like the girls he has dated before. They’ve all been beautiful, petite, skinny women. I am not them.
The last girl he liked, well, she is my best friend. Another gorgeous, skinny girl with a spectacular sense of humor, strong beliefs, and an incredibly generous nature. He started calling her every night just to talk. He is incredibly shy. We knew he liked her. He never had a chance to actually ask her out, she was already seeing someone else. He just hadn’t found out yet.
He doesn’t call me.
Okay, so he does call me. But only when he’s not going to make it to something. Then I am like his version of a sick note or an excuse slip. I guess I can’t complain, he calls me first, but I could really use a phone call of another sort.
With this lack of any real evidence towards the contrary, I believe there is a good chance I am headed straight for heartbreak yet again.

I don’t care anymore.
That may not exactly be the right way to characterize it. I guess what I’m really trying to say is that, well, if heartbreak is on the way, so be it. He’s amazing. I enjoy spending time with him, and as long as I have that opportunity, I’m going to take it. Who knows, maybe attitudes will change.
Besides, every time I pray about it, God sends me word: WAIT. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I know that I’m to wait. Which is fine. I’ve got time. I need to be praying for God to keep me strong and patient. These lonely nights are the hard part because I’m still not sure what I’m waiting for.
But hey, it can only get better. Right?

Covers All Manner of Sins

Favorite's list of this very moment (10:39 pm CST):

• The orange vanilla candle which inspired the "cake" sentiment of earlier in the evening.
• Love Actually
• Finally figuring out what to put on that 2nd mix for Mr. Laurent
• Just opening Gmail and realizing that I have an email from said Mr. Laurent with notice that he's not dead and a request to fetch him the Death Star, the number 9, and four bags of raw flour
• Fire
• The gloriously cool breeze coming through the window next to the computer
• Terms like "covers all manner of sins"

Yes, this is the 2nd entry of the day. The story is something I was working on tonight. I hadn't written a story in God only knows how long and it felt like the right timing. Pretty glorious actually. There might be more to it. I haven't really decided yet.

The mix is actually going to be the next one I make. The name will stay the same. There may be one more song added, but we'll see. I'm debating. It's a good mix though. Muy obvious and lovely.

I extended a lame email invitation for Mr. Laurent (formality sounds lovely this evening as does the word "lovely") to join me at any point during the weekend if he so desires.

I went to a block party this evening. I'd never been to one, and my mother wanted to go. Oddly enough, it was at Pine Crest Community, which happens to be a nursing home and assisted living community. They are building a community center which includes a rather large auditorium, coffee house, and wellness center (among other things). I was actually pretty impressed. Although, there was no bingo and I was really hoping to win some money (not that this would have been possible since winning any form of game is nearly impossible because I lack all killer instinct--unless of course it comes to someone messing with my friends, family or the man I adore...). So much for that. I did get to eat bananas foster. Quite tasty.

I'm kind of disappointed in rereading this. No real interesting anything...except for that bit about Mr. Laurent. Such a lovely man.

Good night nurse.

Coversations

She said she didn'tcare. She was trying to fool herself. Why should she care? He wasn’t going to. Or at least it sure didn’t seem like he would. Maybe she should ask, but no, no she couldn’t do that. She didn’t want to be an inconvenience to him.
Maybe it wasn’t even that. Maybe she was just afraid. She didn’t really want to know. Somehow, maybe it was better this way. This not knowing had its advantages. After all, if she didn’t know he disliked her, she could always hope. On top of which, wasn’t it his job to make the first move? He was the guy after all. Maybe it was time he stepped up to the plate and took a swing. She felt like she’d been doing all of it. She made mix cds, she left him notes, she made him laugh, she checked on him when he was sick, she encouraged him. He seemed grateful for her friendship. Seemed to enjoy her company…but nothing was ever said.
Sure he’d made her a mix cd and came to hang out with her when she asked, but it only seemed to be in groups. Was he scared of her? If only the songs on the mix had really meant something. If only they hadn’t just been songs by bands he loved. She wondered if he had realized that her mix cds were like letters. Each song chosen carefully and only for him.
Maybe it was just as well. Maybe he was meant to have someone better. Someone prettier, more musical, talented, perfect. That’s what he deserved anyway…perfection.
She sighed to herself. She went through the familiar list: believes in God, good with kids, was an amazing singer, played and wrote his own music, funny, handsome in a casual wonderful way, brilliant, accomplished…yes…he was perfection. She found herself sighing yet again praying God would provide her with some obvious direction. All she wanted was to know if she was crazy for sticking around so long.


He said he didn’t care. He was trying to fool himself. Why should he care? She surely wasn’t going to. She was just treating him like all her other friends. Right? The emails, checking up on him, always noticing when something was different, telling him she liked his new songs. Wasn’t that something she would do for anyone?
And what about the mix cd he’d made her…Hadn’t she realized he wouldn’t do that for just anyone. That she was special. He’d spent several months working on that mix. Each song specifically about her. Each of them secretly whispered his longing, his love.
Didn’t she see the look in his eyes? That he meant each and every word he said to her. That in each and every sentence he was trying to tell her.
He loved the way she laughed. It was so free and so frequent when he was around. His friends believed she cared, but he couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t she have told me how she felt? Written me a note or something. She’s was such a brave girl…
He sighed and stared at the dark ceiling of his room. Just praying God would give him an answer before he went crazy. What was he going to do?


She looked at the clock. It was flashing 1:37 AM in the most blindingly obnoxious fashion. Thank goodness it was a Saturday. She could sleep in…well if she got any sleep at all she could sleep in, but she wasn’t holding out much hope anymore.
She got out of bed and grabbed her laptop. Sitting in her overstuffed chair staring at a blank screen would have to help at least a little bit. Maybe an answer would come while she was typing. She’d find the perfect words, or at least words that would help express her feelings.
Let’s be realistic, she thought. There’s no way I’m going to come up with the perfect words. She opened iTunes and starred at it. Another mix was going to have to happen. It was really the only way to say anything anyway…always through the words of others. I’m such a coward, she thought and started finding songs.


He was pacing again. He had been laying in bed for over an hour and had finally given up any hope of going to sleep. He replayed the evening over in his head again.
They went out bowling with some friends. He always made sure he would be there if they went out in a group. He wished he had the nerve to hang out just with her, but he was really sure he would say something stupid or embarrassing. He couldn't bear the thought of her deciding she didn't want to be around him anymore. Why take the chance? But she had spent most of the evening by his side. Always realizing when it was his turn before he did. She even tucked his tag in. How did she always notice these things? Such insignificant details, but she always did. He loved this about her.
Another friend of there’s had tried to teach her how to bowl. He could tell this embarrassed her, so he hadn’t said anything. Just remembering to comment when she did a good job. Tried to make her laugh. Thanked her when she reminded him it was his turn, when she picked the lint off his shirt, and talked to her whenever he could.
He was getting pretty good at keeping their conversations going. She never seemed thrown when his topics didn’t flow. And she would actually answer his questions with honest sounding answers. She was amazing.
He thought she was wonderful. Everything about her. She was perfect.
He picked up a notebook and his guitar. At least all the angst is good for something, he thought.


There, she thought. It’s done. She stared at the list on her screen:

In This Diary mix:
Faith – George Michael
If Only She Knew – O.A.R.
In This Diary – The Ataris
You Really Got Me – Van Halen
That Thing You Do – The Wonders
Stay With Me – Finch
Waiting – Jimmie’s Chicken Shack
Your Winter – Sister Hazel
Quitter’s Never Win – Jonny Lang
On Call – Kings of Leon
Reckless – Better Than Ezra
Kiss On – Tyler Hilton
Southern Girl – Incubus
Brass Bed –Josh Gracin
Waiting in Vain – Bob Marley
Don’t Move – Butch Walker
Questions – Jack Johnson
Sparks – Coldplay

You can’t be much more obvious than that. She hit the burn button and made two copies. She knew she would need to be reminded of this bit of recklessness on a regular basis for awhile. If he didn’t catch on, at least she would have been able to get some of those feelings out of her head. But what if he does catch on? The thought paralyzed her. No, no looking back. This needs to be said. Even if this is the only way I can do it…

Nothingness Enshrined in a Surplus of Words

Favorite things of today's moment (3:42pm CST):

• Cranberry Cheddar Cheese
• Visits from people while I am at work
• Virtual flowers
• Knowing I have accomplished today's said goals
• Having a Friday off to look forward to
• The concept of seeing the tallest of my favorite people this evening, even if that time is all too short and completely unrelated to this tall individuals desire or lack there of to see me
• Eyeliner
• Little girls dressed up in their ballerina outfits for dance classes
• Taking short walks to run errands
• Books

Enough of that.

I am incredibly warm. Let's start with that. I am, for all intents and purposes, feeling as if I am sitting on a heating vent with all the warm air blowing directly up the back of my shirt, which, if it where freezing, would be a wonderful thing, but as today is in the 80's and the air condition doesn't seem to be affording me any real possibilities of cooler temperatures, this is not a thrilling prospect.

Moving on.

Accomplished feelings are abounding today. Because I was woken up at 7:30 (a time which I avoid being conscious for if at all possible), I have actually gotten things done. Honestly, this can also be said because I ended up working all day today for my mother instead of my normal 2 hours on a Wednesday afternoon. This means that I was in the office (still am) and therefore did not have the distraction of a television with DVD/VCR capabilities rendering me helpless to watch movies I've seen millions of times all over again and sucking me into the vortex of laziness (which is common on Wednesday mornings, if I'm conscious to see them).

Instead, as I said, I've been at work. Here I was actually able to complete the necessary prep work for my test tomorrow. I have a beautifully typed set of notes to take with me. Notes that are legible. Notes that have helped to jog my memory enough that I should actually know what I'm talking about tomorrow morning. Maybe I'll even go to bed early enough that I can wake up a little early and pick myself up a cappuccino full of the caffeine I will be desperately in need of tomorrow morning. Maybe.

On an entirely different note: I think I may be having a slight allergic reaction to something here in the office. Since getting here this morning, I have had several little bumps appear in my arms and chest. Can't say I'm very excited about this development considering all it does is cause me to itch and have weird streaky highlighted red marks whenever I can no longer stand it. My brother, David does not have this problem. If he has a mosquito bite, even if they're on his toes or hands, he does not itch them. His willpower is impressive. Sometimes I envy him for it. He never looks like he has a bad splash of sunburn around his mosquito bites. Most of the time you never even know they're there. How is this possible? But moving on.

The other possibility (outside of the obvious allergic reaction theory), is that something is biting me. I haven't seen any mosquitoes in the office, but I wouldn't put it past those sneaky little insects. Or maybe a spider. Or something. I don't really know. Maybe I've caught some strange child's disease: chicken pox, mumps, something. I don't know. It's bad enough that my ring and pointer finger on my left hand are swollen from mosquito bites that decided to magically appear the other night while I was talking on my phone to Nathan while outside. I was even walking. How could they catch me? Apparently I need to walk more quickly. Although, this would cause a problem seeing as though that might cause me to breathe more heavily which makes talking on the phone awkward, especially when the person I'm talking to happens to be of the opposite gender (even if he has decided he's gay).

I'll be glad when it's colder. No more mosquitoes. I can wear a hoodie and my vans when I take a walk and it won't make me feel overheated. The leaves will be colorful and crunching beneath my feet as I walk up and down the sidewalk. The air will smell like autumn, that cool, deep, rich smell that comes with burning leaves and cold, and at night it makes you wonder if what you smell is the stars that seem to shine just that much brighter and colder at night.

Honestly, I can't wait.

Lists and other wonders of the day

Favorite things of this very moment (6:45pm CST):

• Finding a copy of a book I've been wanting to buy for 25 cents at a used book sale.
• Knowing my tuition payment went through without any problems.
• Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller
• Jonny Lang's "Lie to Me" cd
• Toothbrushes
• Owning a laptop
• Wireless that's free from the Public Library
• Not owning a blue-tooth related anything

As I was walking across the street to go to the library tonight, I saw 2 black dogs. They were pretty big and one of the looked a little older. They both had well-worn collars with shiny metal name tags, but they were obviously lost. I don't know who they belonged to, but I wish I did. They took off before I could figure out who they belonged to. It made me feel kind of guilty too.

I don't know how silly that sounds to most people, but I'm real sentimental and I feel concern for animals on a regular basis. Especially if they seem to be lost pets. All I could think when those dogs took off was I hope they don't get hit by a car. It just really bothers me to think that something could happen to those dogs and I should have been able to do something. You know?

I prayed for them. Even if that does seems childish or superfluous or whatever. They were living breathing beautiful creatures, and I just hope God protects them and gets them home safely tonight.

Also, they planted new trees. The dogs didn't (don't be such a smart alec, I know you were thinking it!), but the guys from the "city" (aka the "village") planted new trees. I left for school this morning and there was nothing, but when I came home from work there were at least 2 new trees on my block. Not little bitty ones either, we're talking hardy looking saplings that should provide me with shade in another year or two. Despite the sarcasm that you might be thinking you sense, I'm genuinely excited about these new trees. More oxygen for everyone around.

As I've been typing this, I've been talking to my friend, Amber's boyfriend. He's been wandering the library. Justin said he wanted a book. He's having trouble finding one. Then again, he also said he doesn't have a library card. I told him he should probably go get one. I mean, he lives just down the street, like I do. Currently he's at the circulation desk with my mother and Mary trying to figure out how it's possible to have fines for a book at has disappeared but was returned that he's never heard of and can't imagine having a reason to have checked it out years ago if he did. Bizarre.

Real

To be honest, Nikky, if (which I'm sure you will eventually) you are reading this, (what a poorly constructed sentence) you will find later on that all of this is said in my letters to you. I plan on still giving you these letters even though you'll probably read it all here first simply because I believe written copies are more coveted and honest and real and personal than anything I can possibly type here. I'm putting the following here so that if someone does stumble across this, they can consider it to. It's completely honest, so *shrugs* make of it what you will:

I'm reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller, and it's really making me think. A lot. Maybe more than I want to just because it seems like Don is talking about me as much as he's talking about his own experiences. His feelings are my feelings, his words (though much more beautiful and brilliant than my own) are my words.

I'm about halfway through Blue Like Jazz. The line, "You are not above the charity of God," has haunted me all weekend. Like God's trying to convince me. I know it's true, but, like I've said before, pride is really an issue I have. It goes with growing up without much money. I've put on this tough kid facade. I was always picked on for being unfashionable, for having to eat hot lunch at school that the state paid for, for being different, for being a tomboy. It gave me an excuse to be tough about a lot of things. To not show emotion. Too proud to accept charity or help when I needed it mostly because I was never willing to show that I needed it. It just added to everything else. I never wanted to tell people I was struggling because I didn't want their pity, but the reality was, God was trying to provide for me. I just let pride get in the way. Why do we do these things? Or, more appropriately, why do I let myself do these thing?

In the chapter called Romance, I'm amazed to see so many of my own seemingly irrational fears in print. I'm terrified that I'll fall in love, get married and then my husband will realize he's made a mistake, or I'll realize I've made a mistake. I'm terrified of telling people how I feel about them, but mostly, I'm afraid once a guy sees me for all that I am...I'm afraid he'll run. I'm not perfect. I have a very dark, very unpleasant side which, I will admit, has had it's up's and down's in size and existence over the years, but still...it's very much alive and there.

And even worse, what if someone gets to know me and realizes I'm very fake. That sometimes I agree to ideas and functions without legitimate reasons or without fully understanding or hearing it out. What if he sees me for the spaz that I am, and realizes he can't deal with the fact that I rarely have the strength or stamina to see things through, and that I' not nearly as charming or witty or funny as he's believed. That sometimes I'm a liar in the fullest sense of the word. What then?

Then there was the chapter titled Alone. It's very real to me. The following paragraph makes more sense to me, and is more real, than almost anything I've read recently:

"I know about that feeling, that feeling of walking out into the darkness. When I lived alone it was very hard for me to be around people. I would leave parties early. I would leave church before worship was over so I didn't have to stand around and talk. The presence of people would agitate me. I was so used to being able to daydream and keep myself company that other people were an intrusion. It was terribly unhealthy."

When I went to Sauk initially, I lost touch. When I came home from ABC, I lost touch. Now, I'm working on maintaining contact! I've been the person Don is talking about in this paragraph. That was me. I had lost touch, but now I'm trying to grow out of that. I'm trying to be who God wants me to be because He never created me to lock myself away and be alone.

There is a quote by Marianne Williamson that I feel says it all as far as what God created us to be:

"Our deepest fear is not that we're inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond all measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world."

I love this quote. I have it in several different locations and in several different profiles on line because I want people to see it. I want to remember it, and I want others to realize its profound truth. We shouldn't play small. I shouldn't play small. I should live for others, not just me. I should be living for the community, the group, the people God places in my life. They are relevant and wonderful and real. And so am I.

Feelings

I have had a void living in my chest for years. Three years now. Three years of holding an ache so deep inside me that I've refused to feel.

I don't know how hard it is to understand that concept. I know for me to try to explain that has been hard. The last heartbreak I had to endure was just more than I could bare. It's just hard to have that many forms of heartbreak compounded into one another in such a short span of time, and it allowed me the excuse to shut down.

The point of all of this mumbling is that, well...something is changing. Over the course of summer, my heart has changed. Softened somehow. For this I am grateful. Yeah, it does mean that I'm back to being in a position to get hurt, but I've also realize that I'm okay with that. Heartbreak is part of life.

Besides, I write better when I'm like this. I realize that this post is probably not a good example of that, but I can't say that really matters to me.

I am feeling. I'm infatuated to say the least, but this has potential. The more time I spend with this great guy friend of mine, the more I am starting to allow myself the idea that maybe he could like me too. Maybe I'm not crazy. Maybe we could be more.

Maybe. And I'm willing to wait to find out.