But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
-Maya Angelou
...I knew this would happen. This is both what I longed for and was afraid of, and why I put off writing for so long. Tonight, Pandora's Box has been opened. I have too much to say. My mind is racing. The caged bird sings. I feel like I can't say enough orally, or am afraid to say what I'm really thinking, but I have too much to write.
I'm afraid of that. You learn to lock yourself up in a box and it becomes easy to never return to who you are. Do you know what I'm saying? You become this person that prioritizes what you know and what you don't know, what you're willing to try and what you will never try, who you will love and who you can't or refuse to love. Eventually you become good at leaving yourself in a cage simply because it's easier than breaking free and flying sometimes. In other words, you get comfortable. I was comfortable. I didn't need or want things to change and then tonight, I broke out. Dichotomous in that it's a nightmare and a dream come true. I can't believe it's been 7 months since I have written anything, let alone blogged. I mean I have journaled, but sparingly. I freaking graduated college. I had one of the most interesting and growth-filled semesters of my life and I didn't write? Why?
It's easier to keep it bottled up than to sit down and let yourself overflow. I'm thinking about getting a different blog website. It's time to move on from this study abroad blog and have more of a "Becoming Lindsay" type blog, I don't know. What I do know is that I feel inspired. Like I can do anything right now. Like I could sit here and type 17 more entries and still not feel weary. I want to run right now. I want to listen to my music. I want to get it all out, but I also want it to last.
I'm saving it for the morning.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Brangelina Goes Hunting
I didn't really know how to pick a title because it's been so long, but you have to understand that blogging is writing and writing is your thoughts and your thoughts are your feelings and your feelings are who you are at that time...
Basically why I haven't had the courage to write in so long. It takes courage, it takes emotion, it takes blocking everything else out and letting your soul take over. I'm probably over-dramatizing this whole blog of mine, but words have such a different meaning to me, that it's not dramatic, it just is. I can't describe it any more than that. And honestly, I don't know what I'm saying right now, but I wouldn't be here, on my computer, typing all of this nonsense out at this moment, if it weren't for 2 random people who came into my life at random times, albeit all too briefly, and for some reason just won't let me stop writing. I don't know why they like to read this blog, but it makes me feel like I may actually have something to say. So, to Catie King and Kohan McNab, this one goes out to you...
I've re-typed this first sentence like 409 times already because I'm having a hard time formulating my thoughts and allowing myself to let go enough to write, so this is going to be my sentence. Whew. Here goes. The thing is that words, quotes, lines, and songs mean so much to me because they make me feel understood. It's like my soul has a voice when I hear something that describes who I am at that moment: what I'm thinking about, who is important to me and at the forefront of my mind, what I'm worrying about, etc. Do you ever turn on the radio and hear a song that just lifts your soul out of your body and carries you up into some unknown, yet completely whole world? That's the feeling I'm attempting to describe here. That's what words are to me. Honestly, I have no freaking clue why in the hell I'm writing this scattered paragraph right now and it's not at all what I initially intended to say, but now I'm purging about something that doesn't make any sense. I'm sorry. It's been awhile. I guess what I'm trying to say is in a reallyyyy roundabout way is that it's hard for me to reconcile who I am when I write and who I am in my daily life. My words, on paper, or on a blog (work with me here), are me exposed and naked; they permit my mind to go places that I can't normally go, unless I'm on a road trip by myself, simply because it's taboo to be needy and thoughtful. I hate that. What I hate more than anything else is when someone calls me dramatic and emotional. Personally, I don't feel like I am all that dramatic. Emotional? Yes. Dramatic? Not so much. Maybe I am more dramatic than I think, but I like to think I'm not flailing myself onto the ground because daddy won't buy me the pink horse that I wanted for my birthday. Perhaps that's more theatrical? I don't know. I think that I hate being described as dramatic and emotional, though, simply because they hold such negative connotations, especially with my family. I am a feeler. To my best friend Laura Beth, that's nothing new. I feel things so hard. Certain moments and specific people just bring out these emotions in me that makes me feel as though I was just crushed against the wall by a nuclear blast or something. But, words are so meaningful to me, whether they be in the form of a song or a poem or a powerful quote, because they make me feel understood. Like someone gets me. It's like a breath of fresh air. See, that right there was dramatic, but it's true. I'm done trying to be this fake person who everyone thinks I should be. I feel things, okay? Sometimes I want to know that I'm needed and sometimes I need. I worry... a lot. About people, about circumstances, about moving, about adapting, about what my life would be like after graduation. I think all the time, and if I had my way I would think about this or that person all day long while attempting to formulate my thoughts towards them in a meaningful way. At the same time, I simply long for them to know how much I care about them because I'm not the greatest speaker. I'm not so good at talking face-to-face unless you have earned my trust and appreciate my heart, meaning that you are not the kind of person who will criticize me for caring. Because, let's face it, people that feel and care are always criticized. I'm not a depressed person; in fact, I'm anything but that. Been there, done that. I'm happy in my life, but that doesn't keep me from feeling things at a deeper level. That's why my soul can both soar like there's no tomorrow and be crushed into a million fatalities simply because of words.
I can be so easily wounded. I hate that about myself. I wouldn't normally write that, but I feel like the amount of traffic this blog sees is few and far between, so I no longer care. This is me right now... But, what I was saying is that I'm easily wounded. I'm also sooooo easily touched. For those two reasons among a few other major events in my life that played a huge part in defining who I am, I am heavily guarded. Mind you, there are a select few individuals who have weaseled their way into my life, put their hands on their hips, and demanded to know me. I can't tell you how much I love those people and how protective I am of them. It's not like I'm unloved, that's not what I'm saying. And if you think that's what I'm saying, please stop reading this blog right now because you just totally took the word misunderstanding to a whole other level. I am severely and deeply loved. I can't get enough love. I love and am loved. Get that through your thick skull. It's being known that is the hard thing. It's having a thought and having someone there to interpret your thoughts, despite not uttering a word, just because you are one thing: known.
I just got back from a great week at the beach with my whole extended family (the Holden clan). I love them sooo much. It's like the earth shifts with the amount of love our extended family has for one another. You can breathe it in the air. You can taste it on your tongue. It's there. It's that overly-protective, severely invasive, you can never run away from it kind of love. It's great. I feel like I have finally accepted and grown comfortable with who I am, though. I have finally accepted that I bring a whole new meaning to the personas of being a feeler and a lover. It's part of who I am. It's not the way to survive in this world. And I think that's why I've been fighting against myself for so long. I used to want to be this powerful business woman who never had a glass ceiling, but who climbed and climbed. Now, I just want to be me. I love myself... finally. I love my thoughts, I love who my friends are, I love my family, I love my body, I think I'm hilarious, and I want those things to be known. For so long, people kept telling me that I'm too sensitive and that I need thicker skin, so what did I do? I threw up walls. I have so many walls that even I am blinded by them. They are a defense mechanism that came up out of a sub-conscious need to arrest the side of me that wasn't what the world wanted simply so I could survive. They protected me from not only discovering and learning to love myself, but also from what people had to think about me. I don't know why I used the past tense there either... because they are still up. I'm guarded. It takes time to get to know me. I'm one of "those" people. At the same time, I hate it, because most of the time, I want to be known by the people that blow "those" guarded individuals off... simply because they take too much time. Anyway, as much as I feel loved by some of my family and friends, I don't always feel known. What bothers me is that I don't know how to reconcile that at all. It's like I know that I am loved, but I feel misunderstood at the same time. I'm having a conversation with someone whom I know loves me, but my soul is screaming for them to hear me, to feel me, to understand what I'm trying to say.
This is such a confusing post and I don't know why I'm even writing it because it isn't at all what I intended to write, but alas, here I am. And the thing is that I don't think I'm the only one who feels that way. I think a lot of people, especially the underdogs, feel that way and that is why they struggle to believe in themselves, to deem themselves capable, to love themselves... I think we need to do a better job of loving people.
That's all I'm trying to say today.
Basically why I haven't had the courage to write in so long. It takes courage, it takes emotion, it takes blocking everything else out and letting your soul take over. I'm probably over-dramatizing this whole blog of mine, but words have such a different meaning to me, that it's not dramatic, it just is. I can't describe it any more than that. And honestly, I don't know what I'm saying right now, but I wouldn't be here, on my computer, typing all of this nonsense out at this moment, if it weren't for 2 random people who came into my life at random times, albeit all too briefly, and for some reason just won't let me stop writing. I don't know why they like to read this blog, but it makes me feel like I may actually have something to say. So, to Catie King and Kohan McNab, this one goes out to you...
I've re-typed this first sentence like 409 times already because I'm having a hard time formulating my thoughts and allowing myself to let go enough to write, so this is going to be my sentence. Whew. Here goes. The thing is that words, quotes, lines, and songs mean so much to me because they make me feel understood. It's like my soul has a voice when I hear something that describes who I am at that moment: what I'm thinking about, who is important to me and at the forefront of my mind, what I'm worrying about, etc. Do you ever turn on the radio and hear a song that just lifts your soul out of your body and carries you up into some unknown, yet completely whole world? That's the feeling I'm attempting to describe here. That's what words are to me. Honestly, I have no freaking clue why in the hell I'm writing this scattered paragraph right now and it's not at all what I initially intended to say, but now I'm purging about something that doesn't make any sense. I'm sorry. It's been awhile. I guess what I'm trying to say is in a reallyyyy roundabout way is that it's hard for me to reconcile who I am when I write and who I am in my daily life. My words, on paper, or on a blog (work with me here), are me exposed and naked; they permit my mind to go places that I can't normally go, unless I'm on a road trip by myself, simply because it's taboo to be needy and thoughtful. I hate that. What I hate more than anything else is when someone calls me dramatic and emotional. Personally, I don't feel like I am all that dramatic. Emotional? Yes. Dramatic? Not so much. Maybe I am more dramatic than I think, but I like to think I'm not flailing myself onto the ground because daddy won't buy me the pink horse that I wanted for my birthday. Perhaps that's more theatrical? I don't know. I think that I hate being described as dramatic and emotional, though, simply because they hold such negative connotations, especially with my family. I am a feeler. To my best friend Laura Beth, that's nothing new. I feel things so hard. Certain moments and specific people just bring out these emotions in me that makes me feel as though I was just crushed against the wall by a nuclear blast or something. But, words are so meaningful to me, whether they be in the form of a song or a poem or a powerful quote, because they make me feel understood. Like someone gets me. It's like a breath of fresh air. See, that right there was dramatic, but it's true. I'm done trying to be this fake person who everyone thinks I should be. I feel things, okay? Sometimes I want to know that I'm needed and sometimes I need. I worry... a lot. About people, about circumstances, about moving, about adapting, about what my life would be like after graduation. I think all the time, and if I had my way I would think about this or that person all day long while attempting to formulate my thoughts towards them in a meaningful way. At the same time, I simply long for them to know how much I care about them because I'm not the greatest speaker. I'm not so good at talking face-to-face unless you have earned my trust and appreciate my heart, meaning that you are not the kind of person who will criticize me for caring. Because, let's face it, people that feel and care are always criticized. I'm not a depressed person; in fact, I'm anything but that. Been there, done that. I'm happy in my life, but that doesn't keep me from feeling things at a deeper level. That's why my soul can both soar like there's no tomorrow and be crushed into a million fatalities simply because of words.
I can be so easily wounded. I hate that about myself. I wouldn't normally write that, but I feel like the amount of traffic this blog sees is few and far between, so I no longer care. This is me right now... But, what I was saying is that I'm easily wounded. I'm also sooooo easily touched. For those two reasons among a few other major events in my life that played a huge part in defining who I am, I am heavily guarded. Mind you, there are a select few individuals who have weaseled their way into my life, put their hands on their hips, and demanded to know me. I can't tell you how much I love those people and how protective I am of them. It's not like I'm unloved, that's not what I'm saying. And if you think that's what I'm saying, please stop reading this blog right now because you just totally took the word misunderstanding to a whole other level. I am severely and deeply loved. I can't get enough love. I love and am loved. Get that through your thick skull. It's being known that is the hard thing. It's having a thought and having someone there to interpret your thoughts, despite not uttering a word, just because you are one thing: known.
I just got back from a great week at the beach with my whole extended family (the Holden clan). I love them sooo much. It's like the earth shifts with the amount of love our extended family has for one another. You can breathe it in the air. You can taste it on your tongue. It's there. It's that overly-protective, severely invasive, you can never run away from it kind of love. It's great. I feel like I have finally accepted and grown comfortable with who I am, though. I have finally accepted that I bring a whole new meaning to the personas of being a feeler and a lover. It's part of who I am. It's not the way to survive in this world. And I think that's why I've been fighting against myself for so long. I used to want to be this powerful business woman who never had a glass ceiling, but who climbed and climbed. Now, I just want to be me. I love myself... finally. I love my thoughts, I love who my friends are, I love my family, I love my body, I think I'm hilarious, and I want those things to be known. For so long, people kept telling me that I'm too sensitive and that I need thicker skin, so what did I do? I threw up walls. I have so many walls that even I am blinded by them. They are a defense mechanism that came up out of a sub-conscious need to arrest the side of me that wasn't what the world wanted simply so I could survive. They protected me from not only discovering and learning to love myself, but also from what people had to think about me. I don't know why I used the past tense there either... because they are still up. I'm guarded. It takes time to get to know me. I'm one of "those" people. At the same time, I hate it, because most of the time, I want to be known by the people that blow "those" guarded individuals off... simply because they take too much time. Anyway, as much as I feel loved by some of my family and friends, I don't always feel known. What bothers me is that I don't know how to reconcile that at all. It's like I know that I am loved, but I feel misunderstood at the same time. I'm having a conversation with someone whom I know loves me, but my soul is screaming for them to hear me, to feel me, to understand what I'm trying to say.
This is such a confusing post and I don't know why I'm even writing it because it isn't at all what I intended to write, but alas, here I am. And the thing is that I don't think I'm the only one who feels that way. I think a lot of people, especially the underdogs, feel that way and that is why they struggle to believe in themselves, to deem themselves capable, to love themselves... I think we need to do a better job of loving people.
That's all I'm trying to say today.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Age of Jackasses
I know that I didn't complete the task which I set out to do, but I realized that some things were too private to be online and I just couldn't do that anymore. Maybe I'll get a new blog and call it
"365" or something, but for now, I'm just going to write when I feel inspired.
I went to Blacksburg again this weekend to visit Alexandra. The idea came to me Thursday afternoon and early Friday afternoon, I showed up... no, it was not a surprise. Sometimes it's good to exercise control over when you want surprise people because it's not always a welcome surprise... let's be for real. First, let me make a quick shout out, Friday night we went out and I ran into Lauren DiBernardo, a girl I spent most family vacations with for a couple years there. My godfather used to date her mom and so we were really close--the last time I saw her was right after my high school graduation party. It was great to see her!
Anyway, this weekend was good for me in a lot of ways. I found the missing pieces I needed, if you will. Alexandra probably has no idea what I'm talking about here, but I didn't realize them until I was on my way home this morning. While we were out on Friday, this army guy came up to talk to Alex and I. Cutie? Yes, but he had really small hands which are about the first thing I notice and it grosses me out when a guy has small hands. He makes up for it with his big talk. Immediately after we made our introductions, he started asking Alex and I the basic questions, such as where we're from, and then he started asking about our political views. Now Al is pretty left and I'm pretty right. I used to consider myself very conservative, but that has loosened up over the past year or so just because I've started to see the gray areas. Not everything is black and white. I've decided I'm independent with Conservative Republican tendencies because it depends on the candidate. So, Army dude Luke started picking a fight with Alex about her politics. I'm not going to get into details here, but being me, I was like, "Can't we talk about something a little less disagreeable like our favorite colors?" Alex was getting pissed and I just wanted the dude to shut his mouth. Things escalated and Alex was so flabbergasted and put off that she got up to leave. Then, douche-bag Luke decided he would glory in what he considered a "political win" and proceeded to belittle all liberals. First of all, you don't mess with my friends. Secondly, it's people like him that give people like me a bad name. Thanks, jackass.
Anyway, after Alex left, I ended up getting in a fight with him about how ineffective he was in getting his point across. He resorted to inappropriate slang, offensive terms, and sexual innuendos to get his point across and yeah, like that's a way to win a liberal over. I don't know why I even wasted my time, honestly. He was nothing to me, but I guess I was just so sick of jackasses trying to act like they could care less about everyone else. I kept trying to make him see that when it comes to debates, it all comes in the delivery, especially for girls. I hate to say it, but it's true. When you scream at a girl, YOU WILL NEVER GET ANYWHERE. SHE WILL NOT TAKE IT. He said he could care less about any liberals because they are the scum of American society. Again, why did I bother? Jackasses don't change. They just don't. Girls like to think that maybe someday this hot and bothered ass face is going to turn out to be a nice guy, but he never does. He went on to say that liberals only lead with their hearts and it's your head that should lead. I said the head's great, but there are shades of gray in every situation and if you put yourself in another person's shoes for a split second, your opinion may start to change. His reply was, "I don't care."
That was my queue to go. It just hit me right then and there that a jackass won't change. I was actually disappointed that he was putting his life on the line and serving our country in the Army Special Ops just because of his attitude towards half our country. Sure, I wish that there weren't so many libs so I could get the President I voted for in office, but liberal is an extreme term and I'm supportive of our President despite his party.
So, needless to say, I'm not wasting any more of my time talking to guys like that. It sucks that it's how most Army guys are, but I haven't met one yet who has been even remotely compassionate, emitting even basic human emotions. See, I'm still mad! I just couldn't believe that someone could say the things he said to Alexandra and be able to sleep at night. I won't take it ever. There's something to be said for the affective conversationalist. My rant's over. Don't take the good guys for granted because they're actually compassionate enough to care.
Moving right along, since the start of this semester, Marius has been telling me out of nowhere that I always "butter up the truth." The first couple of times he said that to me, I was like, "no I don't. What are you talking about?" He was like, "you always make things seem much better than they really are..." On my ride back to Chapel Hill from Blacksburg today I realized that he was completely right. I don't know if it's because it helps me sleep at night to think that things are way better than they seem or that I focus solely on the really good moments so that I forget about the not-so-good. Whatever the case, I do it and so then I texted him to tell him that I wasn't above admitting that he was right. It's just that sometimes the truth hurts... It's like giving a dog a pill and expecting her to be able to swallow it. You have to throw a little peanut butter on the pill, or wrap it in some meat or cheese, to get her to take her medicine. I'm all about the delivery, even when it comes to my own memories and feelings, so I do, I butter up the truth. But I just don't know how to be direct without some "feeler" words behind it.
I'm such a girl.
"365" or something, but for now, I'm just going to write when I feel inspired.
I went to Blacksburg again this weekend to visit Alexandra. The idea came to me Thursday afternoon and early Friday afternoon, I showed up... no, it was not a surprise. Sometimes it's good to exercise control over when you want surprise people because it's not always a welcome surprise... let's be for real. First, let me make a quick shout out, Friday night we went out and I ran into Lauren DiBernardo, a girl I spent most family vacations with for a couple years there. My godfather used to date her mom and so we were really close--the last time I saw her was right after my high school graduation party. It was great to see her!
Anyway, this weekend was good for me in a lot of ways. I found the missing pieces I needed, if you will. Alexandra probably has no idea what I'm talking about here, but I didn't realize them until I was on my way home this morning. While we were out on Friday, this army guy came up to talk to Alex and I. Cutie? Yes, but he had really small hands which are about the first thing I notice and it grosses me out when a guy has small hands. He makes up for it with his big talk. Immediately after we made our introductions, he started asking Alex and I the basic questions, such as where we're from, and then he started asking about our political views. Now Al is pretty left and I'm pretty right. I used to consider myself very conservative, but that has loosened up over the past year or so just because I've started to see the gray areas. Not everything is black and white. I've decided I'm independent with Conservative Republican tendencies because it depends on the candidate. So, Army dude Luke started picking a fight with Alex about her politics. I'm not going to get into details here, but being me, I was like, "Can't we talk about something a little less disagreeable like our favorite colors?" Alex was getting pissed and I just wanted the dude to shut his mouth. Things escalated and Alex was so flabbergasted and put off that she got up to leave. Then, douche-bag Luke decided he would glory in what he considered a "political win" and proceeded to belittle all liberals. First of all, you don't mess with my friends. Secondly, it's people like him that give people like me a bad name. Thanks, jackass.
Anyway, after Alex left, I ended up getting in a fight with him about how ineffective he was in getting his point across. He resorted to inappropriate slang, offensive terms, and sexual innuendos to get his point across and yeah, like that's a way to win a liberal over. I don't know why I even wasted my time, honestly. He was nothing to me, but I guess I was just so sick of jackasses trying to act like they could care less about everyone else. I kept trying to make him see that when it comes to debates, it all comes in the delivery, especially for girls. I hate to say it, but it's true. When you scream at a girl, YOU WILL NEVER GET ANYWHERE. SHE WILL NOT TAKE IT. He said he could care less about any liberals because they are the scum of American society. Again, why did I bother? Jackasses don't change. They just don't. Girls like to think that maybe someday this hot and bothered ass face is going to turn out to be a nice guy, but he never does. He went on to say that liberals only lead with their hearts and it's your head that should lead. I said the head's great, but there are shades of gray in every situation and if you put yourself in another person's shoes for a split second, your opinion may start to change. His reply was, "I don't care."
That was my queue to go. It just hit me right then and there that a jackass won't change. I was actually disappointed that he was putting his life on the line and serving our country in the Army Special Ops just because of his attitude towards half our country. Sure, I wish that there weren't so many libs so I could get the President I voted for in office, but liberal is an extreme term and I'm supportive of our President despite his party.
So, needless to say, I'm not wasting any more of my time talking to guys like that. It sucks that it's how most Army guys are, but I haven't met one yet who has been even remotely compassionate, emitting even basic human emotions. See, I'm still mad! I just couldn't believe that someone could say the things he said to Alexandra and be able to sleep at night. I won't take it ever. There's something to be said for the affective conversationalist. My rant's over. Don't take the good guys for granted because they're actually compassionate enough to care.
Moving right along, since the start of this semester, Marius has been telling me out of nowhere that I always "butter up the truth." The first couple of times he said that to me, I was like, "no I don't. What are you talking about?" He was like, "you always make things seem much better than they really are..." On my ride back to Chapel Hill from Blacksburg today I realized that he was completely right. I don't know if it's because it helps me sleep at night to think that things are way better than they seem or that I focus solely on the really good moments so that I forget about the not-so-good. Whatever the case, I do it and so then I texted him to tell him that I wasn't above admitting that he was right. It's just that sometimes the truth hurts... It's like giving a dog a pill and expecting her to be able to swallow it. You have to throw a little peanut butter on the pill, or wrap it in some meat or cheese, to get her to take her medicine. I'm all about the delivery, even when it comes to my own memories and feelings, so I do, I butter up the truth. But I just don't know how to be direct without some "feeler" words behind it.
I'm such a girl.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Dia Seis
My dad's birthday was super... in case you were wondering. We had a super quasi-Italian meal at Puleo's Grill where I suffered through a mouth-watering plate of Charleston shrimp & grits. Actually I think I ate an eighth of my food because my parents were eating the rest and well, I haven't really had much of an appetite since Christmas. Anyway, we found another "winner" restaurant in good ol' Knoxville, Tennessee.
As I'm sitting here on the floor next to the fire, with my back against the coffee table, my laptop, Rosa (yes, her name is Rosa), comfortably situated on my lap, and You've Got Mail playing on E!, I'm feeling grateful for simple days where absolutely nothing is required of me. This is my first break ever since I started college where I haven't worked. I mean it... every other break I've worked between 30-45 hours/week. Even though I'm bored out of my mind, I'm loving the rest that I'm giving my body. All I do is eat, work-out, and sleep for 10 hours a night. Oh, sometimes I shop too. Anyway, it's awesome. Baby? Yes. I can only handle so much stress at any one time. No, but really I've already over-committed myself next semester so if you add anything else to the equation, I will be drowning in a pool of my self-induced demise. Plus, I need to get a job next semester so that I can save for all of my extravagant travel plans like Spring Break... among other things.
So what am I grateful for today? Days where you can do absolutely nothing, talk to no one, and waste away by the fire and a cup of hot cocoa. Ohhh-la-la.
As I'm sitting here on the floor next to the fire, with my back against the coffee table, my laptop, Rosa (yes, her name is Rosa), comfortably situated on my lap, and You've Got Mail playing on E!, I'm feeling grateful for simple days where absolutely nothing is required of me. This is my first break ever since I started college where I haven't worked. I mean it... every other break I've worked between 30-45 hours/week. Even though I'm bored out of my mind, I'm loving the rest that I'm giving my body. All I do is eat, work-out, and sleep for 10 hours a night. Oh, sometimes I shop too. Anyway, it's awesome. Baby? Yes. I can only handle so much stress at any one time. No, but really I've already over-committed myself next semester so if you add anything else to the equation, I will be drowning in a pool of my self-induced demise. Plus, I need to get a job next semester so that I can save for all of my extravagant travel plans like Spring Break... among other things.
So what am I grateful for today? Days where you can do absolutely nothing, talk to no one, and waste away by the fire and a cup of hot cocoa. Ohhh-la-la.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Day 4/Day 5
My B. I forgot about it yesterday... it slipped from my unconscious to my conscious right as I was drifting to sleep and I said too myself, "ahh... screw it." I feel like Sigmund Freud.
So, Day 4:
This is what I had to say. I'm grateful for breaks because even though I'm usually bored out of my mind because I have no friends in Knoxville, TN, my mom is at work all day, and my dad is usually busy wrestling alligators (meet virginia lyric), my hygiene meets the toilet. Though I shower everyday, I only wash my hair every other day and I wear no make-up. It's the life. You're probably rolling your eyes thinking big freaking deal. As you should. But one day I went 3 days without washing my hair!!! Lol. No, I just like to be clean, so I like to control my appearance. On the up-side, I feel better about myself and I know my hair is healthier because of less shampoo and conditioner. Am I a freak? Most definitely.
Moving right along... I'm also grateful for after Christmas deals. I procured a special pair of black skinny jeans for $15.99 and they're in a smaller size. YES. Double success. Also, I'm really happy that flannel is back in style because I've been wearing my dad's flannel shirts for years--mostly because they're comfortable and maybe because I want to look like Rosie the Riveter in every way possible. I may be going a little overboard on the flannel-wearing these days, but baby, it's cold outside and I like them. By the way, GUYS: by not wearing flannel, you are doing an injustice to society. You look hot in flannel. Please keep wearing it. It's like Ray-Bans. BAMF appeal. That's all for now.
Day 5:
January 5 is a big day. It's my dad's birthday (I call my dad "pops" and he calls me "pips," but I'll call him dad here because that's normal for most Americans... don't worry your little heart about it). Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TIM!!! My dad is a very special man. I don't think he reads this, so I'm going to rave about him because otherwise he would tell me to delete it. :)
For those of you who have the pleasure of knowing Tim, you feel blessed. I have a kick-ass father. My dad is a hero in so many ways, but mostly because of the lessons he teaches me. We are very close... and most girls didn't land as good a father card as I did, which is why I feel so blessed. A lot of my best friends tell me again and again how lucky I am to have a dad like my dad and it's true because my dad has treated me like a princess since the day I was born in the middle of the NFL playoffs. Ever since I've developed a princess comple, as girls with good dads tend to have, and now refuse to be in a relationship where my self-worth is undervalued. If you want to know how I love, well I learned from the best. He's the one who taught me that love is limitless. It goes and goes. My dad always tells me, "Linds, never be stubborn when it comes to the heart." We were discussing heart problems and he was emphasizing that you should never take chances when it comes to chest pains and what not. But, my dad is as much a double-talker as I am. We say one thing, but we mean two things, so I knew he meant both it literally and emotionally. Never be stubborn when it comes to love. My dad's love imitates God's love for me and that is how it is supposed to be Biblically. So, pops, thank you for your love.
Also, my dad is hilarious. One of his other sayings is "Life's a shit sandwich and everyday you just take another bite." I may get my slight sense of humor in part from him... I'm just saying. He is also a full-blown musical genius. His side of the family is full of incredibly talented musicians, actors, and athletes, but I've never met anyone else who learned to play the flute by themselves because his daughter in 3rd grade decided to take up the flute in the school band (yes, he did that for me) and he wanted to help me practice. I won't share all of the details of his musical talents with you, but just know that he's awesome. He gave me an appreciation for music.
Anyway, I think I've bragged enough. Now I'm going to go get him some TRES LECHES cake because its our favorite from the Mexican place down the street. He also gave me my love for Mexican, and let's be for real, I crave that more than anything else in existence. So, I'll check ya later. I have a kick ass father.
I LOVE YOU, POPS. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!
So, Day 4:
This is what I had to say. I'm grateful for breaks because even though I'm usually bored out of my mind because I have no friends in Knoxville, TN, my mom is at work all day, and my dad is usually busy wrestling alligators (meet virginia lyric), my hygiene meets the toilet. Though I shower everyday, I only wash my hair every other day and I wear no make-up. It's the life. You're probably rolling your eyes thinking big freaking deal. As you should. But one day I went 3 days without washing my hair!!! Lol. No, I just like to be clean, so I like to control my appearance. On the up-side, I feel better about myself and I know my hair is healthier because of less shampoo and conditioner. Am I a freak? Most definitely.
Moving right along... I'm also grateful for after Christmas deals. I procured a special pair of black skinny jeans for $15.99 and they're in a smaller size. YES. Double success. Also, I'm really happy that flannel is back in style because I've been wearing my dad's flannel shirts for years--mostly because they're comfortable and maybe because I want to look like Rosie the Riveter in every way possible. I may be going a little overboard on the flannel-wearing these days, but baby, it's cold outside and I like them. By the way, GUYS: by not wearing flannel, you are doing an injustice to society. You look hot in flannel. Please keep wearing it. It's like Ray-Bans. BAMF appeal. That's all for now.
Day 5:
January 5 is a big day. It's my dad's birthday (I call my dad "pops" and he calls me "pips," but I'll call him dad here because that's normal for most Americans... don't worry your little heart about it). Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TIM!!! My dad is a very special man. I don't think he reads this, so I'm going to rave about him because otherwise he would tell me to delete it. :)
For those of you who have the pleasure of knowing Tim, you feel blessed. I have a kick-ass father. My dad is a hero in so many ways, but mostly because of the lessons he teaches me. We are very close... and most girls didn't land as good a father card as I did, which is why I feel so blessed. A lot of my best friends tell me again and again how lucky I am to have a dad like my dad and it's true because my dad has treated me like a princess since the day I was born in the middle of the NFL playoffs. Ever since I've developed a princess comple, as girls with good dads tend to have, and now refuse to be in a relationship where my self-worth is undervalued. If you want to know how I love, well I learned from the best. He's the one who taught me that love is limitless. It goes and goes. My dad always tells me, "Linds, never be stubborn when it comes to the heart." We were discussing heart problems and he was emphasizing that you should never take chances when it comes to chest pains and what not. But, my dad is as much a double-talker as I am. We say one thing, but we mean two things, so I knew he meant both it literally and emotionally. Never be stubborn when it comes to love. My dad's love imitates God's love for me and that is how it is supposed to be Biblically. So, pops, thank you for your love.
Also, my dad is hilarious. One of his other sayings is "Life's a shit sandwich and everyday you just take another bite." I may get my slight sense of humor in part from him... I'm just saying. He is also a full-blown musical genius. His side of the family is full of incredibly talented musicians, actors, and athletes, but I've never met anyone else who learned to play the flute by themselves because his daughter in 3rd grade decided to take up the flute in the school band (yes, he did that for me) and he wanted to help me practice. I won't share all of the details of his musical talents with you, but just know that he's awesome. He gave me an appreciation for music.
Anyway, I think I've bragged enough. Now I'm going to go get him some TRES LECHES cake because its our favorite from the Mexican place down the street. He also gave me my love for Mexican, and let's be for real, I crave that more than anything else in existence. So, I'll check ya later. I have a kick ass father.
I LOVE YOU, POPS. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Day 3
This is already becoming one of the hardest things to do because I like blogging, but not everyday. Lol. Day 3 and I'm ready to give up. Well, I'm not going to give up just yet.
Today I'm grateful for our Pastor, Steven Furtick, at Elevation Church. Even though I never get to go to my church anymore, being that it's in Charlotte, and not only do I not live in Charlotte anymore, but I also go to school 2 1/2 hours away from there, just watching it online is good enough for me. From the first day I went to Elevation until now I have never felt more passionate about church and the mission of the church in all my life. Obviously I fall short and don't listen to Elevation online every Sunday night at 7, but when I do, I soak up every minute of it. I don't make it to church at Summit when I'm at Chapel Hill every Sunday either (mostly because I don't really like going by myself), but I'm really just going to try to push past that this semester.
Furtick challenged the church starting next Sunday to read through the new testament in 30 days. That's a hugeeeeeeee deal. I've read through the NT, but not all at one time, so I think I'm going to do it. I already feel like I'm over-committing myself next semester, so I know it won't be easy, but I really am going to try. So today, I'm moved by how Steven Furtick keeps his A game on week after week, daily moving hundreds or even thousands of people beyond compare. Man of God... Keep him in your prayers because he needs them in order to keep it up.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Day 2
Today I am appreciative for a few things. First of all, it looks like I'll be going on my "first" Spring break... not that frolicking through Europe wasn't a Spring break, but I mean spring breaking U.S. style. I think we're going to rent a beachfront condo at Panama City Beach... chhyeah!!! If you want to come too, shoot me a message... after all, the more the merrier. :) I'm soooo excited.
Secondly, okay, let's be honest. My creative ingenue is begging to fly. I have conflicting ideals. I was born to manage, lead, whatever, as long as I'm in charge. President of National Honor Society here, okay?! But this repressed creative side of me that I have buried with my need to be at the top is starting to claw its way out of me. Now I have thousands of ideas that are risky and farfetched and AHHHH. Combining the two would be the ideal career. And who knew that job applications could be so lengthy? AHHHH. But, despite the overwhelmingly negative side I see to this issue of mine-- that I am afraid of everything because I'm afraid that I will have to give up something-- I have to see the positive that at least I am a talented individual. At least God blessed me with options. At least I will not be pigeon-holed into one career for the rest of my life. I'm the furthest thing from a person with tunnel vision... that's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole for me. I observe a thousand things at one time. I'M A WOMAN. I'm a woman who refuses to settle. I'm a woman who knows what she wants... she just hasn't found it yet. I'm confused because I can't figure everything out just yet, but at least I'm not closed to any options. At least I can say that I am a woman who is blessed enough to have options. To have a future. To have family and friends who fully support her. At least I am a woman who lives in a country where she is free to think about and weigh her options. For that, I am grateful.
I am grateful that my parents lured me into running cross country in 6th grade with having a phone in my room. I'm not an intense everyday runner because it becomes too obsessive of a habit for me. So, instead I like to run once or twice a week and do yoga or bike to change it up a bit, but today I was running and counting the minutes until I was done (I literally count down in my head in seconds to pass the time) and it just hit me that I love exercise. Even though I can't wait until I'm done, I just love how I feel when I'm done. Nothing compares to those endorphins afterward. If I go more than a day without working out, I feel it. Just going for a walk makes me feel better about myself. And it's weird because most of my friends (not my guy friends) hate working out. So THIRDLY, I am grateful for the gift of exercise.
Schmoop... maybe once I am back in civilization I will start talking about people that impressed/impacted me that day. Until then, you'll have to depend upon my stellar revelations. Pretty soon you'll know me better than I know myself.
Secondly, okay, let's be honest. My creative ingenue is begging to fly. I have conflicting ideals. I was born to manage, lead, whatever, as long as I'm in charge. President of National Honor Society here, okay?! But this repressed creative side of me that I have buried with my need to be at the top is starting to claw its way out of me. Now I have thousands of ideas that are risky and farfetched and AHHHH. Combining the two would be the ideal career. And who knew that job applications could be so lengthy? AHHHH. But, despite the overwhelmingly negative side I see to this issue of mine-- that I am afraid of everything because I'm afraid that I will have to give up something-- I have to see the positive that at least I am a talented individual. At least God blessed me with options. At least I will not be pigeon-holed into one career for the rest of my life. I'm the furthest thing from a person with tunnel vision... that's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole for me. I observe a thousand things at one time. I'M A WOMAN. I'm a woman who refuses to settle. I'm a woman who knows what she wants... she just hasn't found it yet. I'm confused because I can't figure everything out just yet, but at least I'm not closed to any options. At least I can say that I am a woman who is blessed enough to have options. To have a future. To have family and friends who fully support her. At least I am a woman who lives in a country where she is free to think about and weigh her options. For that, I am grateful.
I am grateful that my parents lured me into running cross country in 6th grade with having a phone in my room. I'm not an intense everyday runner because it becomes too obsessive of a habit for me. So, instead I like to run once or twice a week and do yoga or bike to change it up a bit, but today I was running and counting the minutes until I was done (I literally count down in my head in seconds to pass the time) and it just hit me that I love exercise. Even though I can't wait until I'm done, I just love how I feel when I'm done. Nothing compares to those endorphins afterward. If I go more than a day without working out, I feel it. Just going for a walk makes me feel better about myself. And it's weird because most of my friends (not my guy friends) hate working out. So THIRDLY, I am grateful for the gift of exercise.
Schmoop... maybe once I am back in civilization I will start talking about people that impressed/impacted me that day. Until then, you'll have to depend upon my stellar revelations. Pretty soon you'll know me better than I know myself.
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