typical abilene night

Sometimes I just want to be alone.
I think everyone does.
My brother will probably interrupt me any second now. I keep hearing his frustrated footsteps. You see, our Internet keeps messing up and he’s the guy to fix it because computer engineering is …or maybe it isn’t anymore, well, it at one point if not now was/is his major.

Being home for a weekend is nice. Even a long weekend. But beyond that I’m ready to leave. Wanderlust? No. Cabin fever? Maybe that’s part of it. I think I just want to be home.

About ten minutes ago, no, 2. Two minutes ago I came into my room and lit about four haphazardly collected over the years candles. There’s a vase of dried roses on this desk too and I pushed it aside thinking of the disaster that would occur if they were to catch aflame. I turned off the lights and watched the light move as it never does with a light bulb. I noticed a loose, crispy and precarious petal hanging from an ancient bud and decided to save it its misery and lifted it from its hold. “Lifted” because it was only being held there by a cobweb. I let this paper-like petal land in a candle figuring it would burn up instantly. It’s still there. Part of it anyway. It now seems to be sunken in the clear hot wax like the titanic. It will probably be there forever and I don’t feel like connecting this happening with anything. It’s just a dead petal in a candle. Who cares.

I’ve been watching too many movies.

At ten thirty I scooped up my cat and forced him to snuggle with me as I carried him around. He gave in. Then he didn’t. So I let him go. I decided to use my parents bathroom. I didn’t have to pee that bad, I was just bored. There is no privacy in their bathroom. Going in there is like a mini-adventure in itself. First I locked the door to the kitchen. It’s tricky because the lock thing turns in the opposite direction that most locks do. I know this and yet I get it wrong every time. Next I shut the door to my parents’ room. Simple, it doesn’t lock. They’re not home. Then I lock the door to the outside. At least I think I do. I go to pull down the shade to the door window and discover that, of course, there isn’t one. I look out the back porch for a second. All I see is cold air. I decide to turn the outside light off. Then I decide to turn it back on. It’s a known fact that it’s easier to see into a place if its dark where you are and light where you want to see. I didn’t think that all the way through though at the time or I would have just turned off the bathroom light and left the outside light on. But then I would have gone to the bathroom in the dark. That could have been possible though seeing how I’ve gone to the bathroom for 20 years quite successfully. Anyways, all three doors are locked and no one seems to be outside so I take my chances. Done. My pee is a normal color and aside from the looming brown stain that has been in the toilet for a few days, all seems as it should. And no one walked in on me unlike the other day when I told my mom I was using the bathroom, not to come in, and sure enough a minute later she swings open the door. Always humiliating, getting walked in on. Pants are up and I’ve got to wash my hands ok I hate that soap. Sally-ho to the kitchen sink! I unlock, open, and unlock ugh the other way and march into the kitchen. I’m ok with dish soap. Oh wait, I despise Joy Ultra. I’ll just have to make the treck to the other bathroom. And in there I must choose between using the bath&body works soap my sister got for Christmas or the normal Softsoap that looks like loogies. Monya’s soap is supposed to be just her’s, ridiculous I know, so I opt for loogie time. Whatever. Just as I go to dry off my hands on someone’s shower towel (not the hand towel that thing is definitely full of germs) I hear my mom and sister coming in the backdoor, into the other bathroom. Ha! Perfect timing.

It’s one of those nights where I’m keeping my mouth closed so everyone’s wondering what’s wrong with me. “I’m fine” and I look her right in the eye so she knows it’s true. But maybe when I force myself to look someone in the eye I am in fact lying. Am I not fine?
The truth is I want to go do something, I want to go talk to a friend or just go lay on my car and watch the stars… but it’s too cold and no one lives here. No one. I wander aimlessly through the front yard anyways. I admire our cheerful Christmas lights that I had absolutely no part in putting up, I balance the tiny curb that lines the driveway, I stand next to the pine tree we planted about 3 years ago. And truthfully I don’t know that it was three I just stretched my finger out to see what number I’d press. And here I am looking right into your eyes, on purpose, so you’ll believe me when I tell you it was three years. Three. I believe me now. The second I realize that I’m no longer able to stand next to this tree, that instead I am actually within it because it has grown that much, is the second I realize that it grew. Odd that I did not notice the five-foot distance before this. I think the closer you get to something the more you experience its size. There’s blue Christmas lights entwined within the branches too, it was like a glimpse of floating in space. There I was, staring at the universe and the gajillion stars that make it up, below and above me, to my right and my left, breathtaking… and my phone camera showed me three lousy blue dots when I tried to take a picture. I am increasingly disappointed with cameras. They seem to be better for capturing what I cannot see rather than what I can. And that’ ok too now that I think about it. I should take more time to think about things. …without over-thinking them. Tricky.
I went back inside and stuck my hand in my stocking by the fireplace. I wanted a cherry lifesaver. I knew there were some in there but I kept pulling out the minty kind which is ok I like that kind but they’re actually minting up the entire contents of the sock which includes my favorite reese’s peanut butter cups. They’re just not the same when they’re minty. Fine, I settle for a mint. I like them. Cherry just would’ve been nice, ok?

Now it’s back to my room to write all this down because really what else is there to do? I just feel like being alone. Sometimes I just want to be. Jordan did interrupt me a few minutes ago but it was o.k.


The neighbors seem to be killing an evil stick in their back yard. I keep hearing whacking on cement.

So good.

I just got super tired all of a sudden. I should probably study a tad for psychology or shpanish but I just am sick of the books, the pages, the tiny texts. My eyes are beginning to have a hard time seeing up close now, as if they're not blind enough already.

Tonight someone asked my how my day was and I said, after thinking about it, "it was good." she said, "good as in fun? or restful? or what?" and I said, "good as in good. as in, well, I dunno I've just always used the word "good" in all honesty, not to cop out of saying how it really was. I really mean good." I kept trying to explain myself, trying to think of another word for "good" but nothing was fitting. I said at one point during our horribly detailed and laborious discussion that I meant it in "the biblical sense." whhhat?? she didn't get it, I didn't even get it. do you get what I mean?

I mean good.
I mean moral, the opposite of evil,
wholesome, not lacking.

Today was good. I woke up early, took a final, then went back to sleep while it rained outside. I was warm under my covers totally satisfied. Then I had such a good time catching up over lunch and coffee with a good friend of mine. The coffee was delicious. Christmas blend. Then I did nothing for a couple hours. I hadn't done that in a while. Then I basically finished my photo final and enjoyed the company of some good friends there in the lab. I did homework in starbucks with some more good people. I came back to my room and changed into some warm, soft clothes. I drove to my friends' house and enjoyed a couple freshly homemade cookies while they taught me how to sleep without flailing my arms awkwardly. We laughed some belly laughs. I drove back home and sat down here, amidst my clutter and mess that I've learned to accept. It feels good to be alive and blinking on this cold, rainy, what-could-be-miserable therefore, day.

today was just innately good.

and hey, I got a new camera! so to celebrate I took a horribly cliche picture of my face.


woot canon, woot.

fluent aphasia

I want to EAT that other pop-tart,
but I should really wash my jeans.
it's TOO late to stay up and write,
but I miss my cat.
what's new?
I JUST went to the store- at midnight,
but I haven't changed my calendar to november- YET.
AND I'm hungry- still,
but I have a test on thursday.
and I DONT want to go to bed,
but I'm low on salsa...
so I gotta.
if I could say SOMETHINGanything that really would change the world,
even just a little,
then
I'd QUIT putting honey in my tea.
instead,
I'd dip my burritos in FRENCH dressing...
because I've never tried that.
but

I keep dropping sprinkles.

Let it be known that on the 6,206th try you will fail.

Just found out I spelled my blog wrong... yeah I know you people noticed, don't lie. Turns out "breathe" has an "e" at the end. So this whole time I've been saying aspire to breath. That doesn't even make sense!!

In my first spelling bee I got out on my first word. They told me to spell "first" and I was like oh yeah I got this, "F-R-I-S-T." I even bet my cute ringlets gave a bounce of confidence with the last emphasis on the "T." Then the judge piped up, "No I'm sorry the correct spelling is "F-I-R-S-T. Please exit the stage." Whhhhaat???! DUH Teysha Brown! Gouhhh, why is there no catchy saying like.. "i before r except when you're an idiot?" I don't know, I remember this day vividly though. The walls were white.

So yeah, Im not going to change the web-address, that would mess up links. But now we know. Teysha is an Idiot.

and that's just reason #1

yesterday I had two stupid moments.

so reason #2:

My phone rang and it was an unknown number so I answered with my generic lady voice. There was a woman on the other line, definitely an adult, and she friendly said "hello Teysha how are ya?" and I said I was good and asked who it was. I thought I heard her say it was Adelle, my aunt who lives in Denton. I thought it was so weird that my aunt would be calling me (she never does). This lady asked how my weekend had been and I couldn't stop thinking about how weird it was. I continued the conversation in the same way I would talk to any family-member: professionalsih, trying to be funny, but unsuccessful, mature, basically trying to pretend like I really care when the truth is that I don't talk to my aunt or most of my extended family enough to really know what's going on in there life (I should work on this). I was in a daze the whole 2-minute convo. You know that feeling? The one where you're trying to talk to someone about something but really the whole time you're thinking about something else, like how confused you are? Yeah. Then near the goodbyes it finally hit me, this was not my Aunt Adelle but my descipler lady from church, Michelle. "OOOOOooooHHHHHhhh!" said my brain. So at this point I'm totally not hearing what Michelle is saying to me and I find myself saying "yeah okay that's fine" and I hang up. She must have thought that was the most awkward conversation ever, and probably rude too. I know it was. I think... I don't feel like I was actually there during it. Instead of being an active listener I was hanging out in my cebral cortex or somewhere nearby, maybe the hypothalamus.


and stupid moment #3:

I went to brush my teeth last night and found myself squeezing toothpaste into the cap... instead of onto my toothbrush.

Ok let's do the math.
I started brushing my own teeth probably around the age of what, 2? 3? Let's say 3. So I've been brushing my teeth for about (19-3) 16 years. I only brushed my teeth once a day up until college and now I brush them twice a day. So from age 3 to 18 is 15. 15 years is 5,475 days, that plus this past year x2 (5,475 + (365x2)) is 6,205. So I've gracefully brushed my teeth six-thousand two-hundred and five times and last night I squeezed toothpaste into the cap, caveman style.


I couldn't even get it back out! It's wasted now!






conslusion:

My hair should be blonde. With an "e."

Chances are this won't be interesting to you.

Today I woke up in my bottom bunk taco bed. Taco? because my roomate and I were the one's to make our beds into bunk beds and we didn't have the bolt-twisters to flip my frame SO my mattress lays on top of the metal lip SO the sides come up while the middle sinks in. Hence, the taco effect. Tacos are surprisingly comfortable, though. I pressed snooze a few too many times. I realized this and jumped up and went to the sink, an exhausting four steps from my bed. Oh dorms... I flipped on George, the light above the sink, and went into the bathroom. When I came back out George still hadn't lit up. "GEORGE!!" and I hit him several times. (We named him George because I think it's a fun name to yell) This seems to wake him up like coffee would a groggy 30-year old. George finally decides to shine and I can now see myself in the mirror, "oof." Second day hair, which is better than clean hair. I arrange it first thing, never having a routine to my morning. I don't even have a shower routine.

Ok what do I want to wear? I own about a thousand t-shirts but I haven't been in the mood for them this school year. I pick out this striped thing that reminds me of working the art office for some reason and I match it with an orange tank top for under-flash and some white shorts that have been accidently dyed a light yellow. (Always hand wash tie-dye things separately) That done I finally give in and shave my legs a little. Why do I bother, is anyone really going to notice? ok make-up (eye-liner today!), jewelery (these earings and this necklace - gold), these shoes'll work (they're starting to tear). Done! out the door. Dangit! forgot my phone. Amber calls this act of leaving and realizing you've forgotten something and having to go back "Pulling a Teysha." The older I get the more Teyshaish I become.

My bag's extra heavy because my art history book that I have yet to crack is nestled in all its procrastinatory glory between my spanish book and 3-subject (handy!) notebook. Having a bag that goes down further than the hem of my shorts makes me feel sort of skanky. I've got my favorite watch back on my wrist after a week or so of it being in Kayla's car. It survived getting wet and living in that scary under-the-car seat area! I've got 4 minutes to walk to art history, thank goodness it's close. In the art building I can hear the good 'ol Jill Carrington has started right on time (maybe early?) and I get to walk in and collect stares for being "late." Ok we have a seating chart in here so why is someone in my spot?! That is MY spot! I like that spot. It's three rows back and on the aisle's edge so I don't have to pick crotch or butt when I slide past people. But today I pick crotch and while I'm in the process of shimying I mouth/whisper to my supposed-to-be neighbor "did we switch seats??" and he mouthed, "no.." while his face said, "I have no idea what happened and I'm wondering the same thing." The girl who's in his spot smiles at me... Ok..? I just sit down and get out my notebook, art history is subject #2. Crazy how placement makes us so comfortable.

The guy who sits next to me, er, who sits next to whoever is supposed to sit here, comes in after me and plops down and squeeks out the desk portion of the chair. He's eating something, and making weird dry smacking sounds, like an ostrich eating a biscuit. I want to offer him my water. I see a foily packaging out of the corner of my eye and know it's a pop-tart, probably the generic brand. They tend to have more crust. I choose to pay attention to Jill's parrot-like squaking and ignore him and my seat placement.

From that class I head over to Psychology where my class-friend Miranda has decided to scoot over a chair. Ha, ok I can handle this. I sit down in the seat that has always been to my right and casually, jokingly, but secretly menacingly mention to Miranda that she's moved over again (yes, this is not the first time). She's like "oh I just like to be in the center." It's then that I notice that the screen we watch powerpoints on is indeed now smack-center in front of us. Way to go Miranda, I feel off-centered but centered at the same time. This is an interesting feeling. Maybe I should ask my Psych teacher about it. She may blame it on terminal buttons or the corpus colossus in my brain. I won't understand at all.

Now I have an hour break and I lunch, starbucks, and study. Then I go to spanish where Dr. Recinos says all his "j" sounds as "y"s and visa-versa. I love it every time. "Clase, eef joo have any suyesteeons please e-MAIL them tu me. I know you have hard maydiors and joo may need some estra help in espanjeol." He's legit.

I cram in the library, alone, quietly.
I take my make-up art history exam alone, quietly. In a small room with a whole wall of drawers. Full of old slides. "We've gone digital," says Jill Carrington, "so we just keep everything in here now and use this computer for the information instead."
Hearing that makes me somewhat sad? I don't know... I miss tangible things. Or maybe I don't, but I think I will soon. Books, CDs, people... Now online.

And here I am: online. I'm trying just to tell you about my day but I can't seem to get anywhere. I could just talk to a real person about it but nothing significant happened. Nothing big anyway, just lots of little things. Little things that make life... _________ (I couldn't think of a word. interesting? used it. life? cliche. worth it? too abstract. All are cheap shots.) (oh I know maybe a metaphor? they make things a little more tangible. Oh I've used tangible already. Ok wait I don't need to sum up life into one word yet.

Ask me on my death bed.)

The other day

I used a pencil instead of a pen.

-stretch me-

I wish I was in a certain place right now,
certainly not here.
There are certain people I'd rather be with
other than my uncertain self
and the others, for certain.
But there's a certain face
and a certain place
that I have to give a certain amount of space.
I'll just breath here,
in this certain spot,
and certainly it will get better after a certain amount of time.
I'm just not for certain.

camp in a nutshell

July 5th came without my special permission. It was the day I had to drive to Tyler and sell my soul to Pine Cove. I was busy hanging out with good friends in Nacogdoches for the Gregs gettin' Gregged. With fire works and ace of base and Allison all around me, the thought of going to a place where I had no clue what would happen just scared me.

Rightfully so.

Pine Cove is a cult.

j/k.

but seriously.
(some ppl say we overuse commas, i overuse periods. and i like. it that way.)

It was the hardest thing I've ever done.

I quickly learned the chants and acceptable behavior. The lingo was different too. Letters like "F.O.B" had all new meaning and I could no longer say "okay" without a cheer following. Oh summer camp, this was it. I was sleeping on a top bunk which gave me the odd urge to carve "teysha wuz here" and draw an arrow to where I had my head at night. There were kids everywhere. Some were funny, some were short, most were annoying. They had names like "Bailey" and "Lane." I guess parents are getting trendy. I even met a boy named "Sky." I did so much jumping that I would bet money my calves doubled in size.

Hired as a photographer, I was taking pictures all day every day. That part wasn't hard. I got used to staying up till 2 a.m. editing and posting, and I really didn't mind the hours. The hard part was the social aspect. I'm used to struggling with things in the beginning. I'm never comfortable in a new environment right away. Sometimes it takes me a few days, sometimes a few minutes, but PC took me 6 weeks. Yep, never did I finally feel completely comfortable there. I don't know what it was... to this day I can't put my finger on it. I was comfortable in the media office almost right away, but being at my camp was always a bit awkward. Three weeks in I had this awesome total break down. Someone asked me how my day was and once I tried speaking it all just gushed from there. Tears. Advice. Lesson learned. Smile. Moved on.
It got a little better after that.
But I still don't know what God taught me.

All I knew by the end of it was that I had to go back next year. I never expected that. Never. But I pre-signed and everything. In fact, the last week I think I almost loved the place. Almost... (that could have been my dual-discovery of the wide-angle lens and game room distorting my view)

I'm not done with pine cove. I've set it on pause. Next summer I'll get it right. I want to.

here's a few of my favorite pictures!

Un-retrieving

She has been moping about it for two days. My sweet mom, she left it in a hotel on her way back from Maine, somewhere in Virginia or Kentucky. Her and my brother were on an eccentric road trip from her parent’s house in moose-country all the way south to where the buffalos reign. She brought me back a moose stuffed animal that I christened “kitty,” as if the role of young girl missing her mommy had taken over me and I was suddenly 4 years old again.

She keeps bringing up this item. She’ll be in the middle of cleaning out the refrigerator drawer (because I left watermelon in it two weeks ago. it rotted.) and I’ll hear a “Ohhh… I just can’t believe I left it…” She’ll trail off on how many times she’s called the hotel, and how they didn’t have “everything together” while they were staying there. That’s her gentle way of saying that the management really sucked and the maids had probably taken her item after they left. She says these words to no one in particular. There is no one in the kitchen with her but her friend, Summer, our family dog. I am escaping her laments as best I can, but I hear her, and what she says makes me sad. To know she cared so much about that gift Monya and I gave her a year ago actually surprises me. Finding something for my mom is tough because she has no personal hobbies, only errands. That we finally were able to find her something and now she has misplaced it is unsettling.

But silly really, that she misses it this much. It’s a sleeping tee. You know, a long T-shirt made for sleeping in. It’s khaki with about eight different drawings of golden-retrievers that sleep and smile on it. In the center, in someone’s grandma font, it says, “Silence is Golden.” Monya and I found it in a gift shop called “Surprises” over on Willis and 14th. We both decided with one nonverbal exchange that it was perfect. Thirty dollars later it was all wrapped up in a turquoise gift bag with zebra tissue paper that so many gift shops feel unique in using. On seeing the tee my mom understood why we bought it for her. She is gentle, loyal, and appreciates no music in the car. Summer, her counterpart, hates thunderstorms. They are retrievers.

Losing something is a horrible feeling. You feel defeated by fate.

My argument is, “I cannot think about what I do not think about.” It sounds foolish, but it is true. Thoughts that we think are triggered by reminders. We make lists, we take pictures -- we trigger a thought. A constant train of links and boxes. I can pull something random from my memory, but I will only be able to think of it either because I searched for it or because something recently reminded me of it. It will only be random because I, unaware of my subconscious, dubbed it so. We can train our minds, but we do not have full control. Some blame fate or karma, I do not. I only know that the Lord is mysterious and He works in that way. Forgetting can seem awful on the surface, but really be a blessing. Quarters that we lose through a hole in a pocket can be picked up by someone else… and shirts that are bought by daughters can be retrieved once again online by a son.

in limbo

ok. it's 3 a.m. my mac is sick. so i'm on a pc. and some wonderful things have happened. on my mac, i was never able to put pictures on ze blogg, but on this lesser computer, i can... why? i know my computer's better on all levels, so why is this e-machine passing it up in this way?
i'm not tired yet. i'm listening to miles davis. in some way that makes me feel neat. but lots of people listen to miles. when it's late at night my legs ache. Ache.
i went to the dentist last week. it smelled like a nuclear fumes lab. the hygienist flossed me. it must be awkward to floss someone else. she dug into my gums so hard i felt like she was under my tooth and sawing away at the roots. i wasn't sure how to react... this was really hurting, but the most i could do to communicate it to her was to make small sounds from the back of my voice. miserable. the older i get, the more i hate the dentist, and shots, and blood... shouldn't it be the other way around? when i gave blood last time i almost passed out. the only things to bring me back to were thoughts of ice cream and orange juice. only then could i stop focusing on how very uncomfortable i was.
we all just want to be comfortable.
this chair makes me sweaty.
so i want a different chair.

Camp food is greasy.

It's June!!! Happy birthmonth to me, happy birthmonth to me, happy birthmonth dear me-ee, happy birthmonth to me! haha... just kidding. June is an amazing month, but not just because my birthday is the 14th. I will finally be a year older but still in my mind always feel two years younger than everyone around me... June is also amazing because it is a free month. No escuela.

I have returned from two weeks of hard emotional labor. Talk about insecurities. Jeez am I insecure. There was some major leaning on Jesus going on, a good thing. Once I arrived at Pine Cove I was sucked into a peppy society of believers. Cool? I think it may be... but I have yet to decide. Some people are sweet, some people I pre-judged completely wrong, and some people I could not figure out. My job as a photographer is perfect for me because it lets me stand back and observe rather than muster up fake energy. It is amazing how thinking to yourself "I am so awkward" causes you to act just that, and how thinking just the opposite: "I am fearfully and wonderfully made" makes you feel confident. My whole life I have bumped back and forth between shy and outgoing. My whole entire life... I tend to be more comfortable when outgoing, but sometimes my guts get twisted and I am consumed with worrying how people think of me. Sometimes that is not the case at all. I have never felt that way at SFA. I feel it most around my mom's side of the family, on mission trips with people I don't know, and at pine cove.

I'm hungry. I didn't really eat dinner. I just had some home made banana ice cream. No complaints though, that stuff is heaven in a bowl.

I had some neat animal encounters while commuting between PC camps this past week:

1) I made eye-contact with an owl one morning. I was in the backseat of a car, driving down a whitman-inspired, tree-lined road. Green and brown mixed with dark shadows. I was gazing into the leaves when I saw a large owl sitting on a post. We held each other's glance like a love poem for several seconds. He followed my eyes until I had passed. "I just saw an owl!!" I eagerly screeched like a 5-year old. The two in the front seat said nothing in return. Thus complimenting my awkward insecurities. I am now afraid to make impulsive announcements. I hope they know the poor effect they've had on me. At least I still haven't forgotten what those owl's eyes told me. I'm pretty sure I gained 8 year's wisdom from those three seconds of nature-human interaction.

2) I had to stop while horses crossed the road. It was twilight and I was alone in my Honda. There were no fences, just free-roaming horses, a one-way road without shoulders, and me. These horses acted like I did not exist. I watched with awe as the large creatures each found separate times to make me stop on the road. In retrospect, I should have gotten out of the car and ran widly alongside them. Today I listened to Ray LaMontagne's "All the Wild Horses" three times with new vision.

3) I was driving 50 mph and was disgusted to see a 4-foot long black serpent slither across the road in the afternoon heat. He struck me as a large evil tape-worm ready to sneak into someone's bed. It's amazing how some animals have such bad connotations.


Hope all of you who read this are doing well. Thanks for reading.

I've come to the realization that I use my blog to vent and complain. How gross. Will change.

The Bedroom.

I just want to cry. In fact, I wish I could. Just close my eyes and feel hot, wet tears roll down my cheeks. Nothing tragic has happened, I just feel like exploding is all. Do you ever feel that way? When several things hit you at once and none of them justify crying but when you compound them it's an overload of reaction? I'm so flawed, so selfish. Being in this room makes me sick. It brings back way too many memories. I went through all my drawers and shelves, all my old clothes, old notebooks from middle school. Why I kept everything? Don't ask. I've got frames of friends staring at me, buckling shelves laden with money. I finally realized where all my earnings went. To useless crap. Books I've never read. Hats I've never worn. Feelings I shouldn't have felt. Even this lighting is driving me crazy. Yesterday when I gazed into the garbage can in the alley, I saw years and years of school all there in the trash. My doodles, homework I hated, papers I excelled at. There they all were, finally in each other's pointless company. I used to have one drawer that was designated for things I wanted to keep for sentimental reasons. Now I still have that drawer, it's full, plus about 6 desk drawers and a few shelves, not to mention the closet with who knows what in its depths. All this to say, stuff is stuff. I'd rather not have any of it. Give me something intangible to trigger my memories and I'll have all this in the trash by Saturday.

I'm going to be stuck in Texas all summer.

may may may... came so fast

even though I'm tired... even though there's much more I should be doing... (what's new?) I need to write this.


freshman year: Done.
done done done finished. over.
i sit here staring at amber's side of the room. she's left. her side is bare. my side? messy. things have been thrown places they've never been before. tomorrow i'll have to get up and pack it all away, only to move it back to the same exact spot in august. yaaaay. this has been my bedroom for four months. i feel like i've been packing and unpacking myself for a year now. and I'm not done.
closing my eyes, I experience something different. I no longer see what is in the room, I see stripes of light on my eyelids. i listen to my lungs fill and let out. I go back to being a body, a body disconnected from my possessions. Now I wish I could just stand up and drive home. Drive me home. Not my things. I have grown tired of "stuff." of my small fan that my first boyfriend gave me, of my quilt that I bought at wal-mart two years ago, of my lamp that I got at a garage sale... I'm ready to start over. I've collected too many pens... too many surfaces...

I will now shave my head and go live naked in the wilderness with only my mind to accompany me.

just kidding ...but seriously


10 things I've learned from my freshman year of college:
1. God is so good and He has so much mercy to offer. If only I could live perfectly and not need it.
2. Cafeteria food is best on Wednesdays. on those days they have food-animals placed cutely throughout the food lines.
3. Home-made meals and homes in general become nostalgic.
4. Road trips are a must. Cabin fever happens in a dorm.
5. God has this all set up to where we have to lean on Him, and if we don't, He'll break us.
6. Staying up late is... nice. 8 a.m. classes are not.
7. Flying kites at midnight during a thunderstorm on the top floor of a parking garage in austin isn't such a bad idea after all
8. Folk, bluegrass, and alt-country are my soul's music.
8.5 It is not necessary to take everything you own to your dorm.
9. Writing is something I must do to stay true to myself.
9.5 East Texas is very different from West Texas
10. When you find out your roomate pees in the shower, you re-think sitting down to shave your legs.

My feet are killing me. I spent $20 on flip-flops from the UC today. Worth it? Not right now they're not. I think they hurt my feet because I'm not used to all this support. I wear only flats and skinny flip flops. This are about an inch thick. My hippy feet are in shock.

Summer. In two weeks.
This semester went by FAST.
I'm starting to get excited about being a photographer at Pine Cove. I'm to the point where I really want to decide for good if I'm doing photography or Ad Design. The part of me that wants to be a photographer hopes that I'm even good at it. And even then I want to be really good at it, not just good. Selfish? No, I don't think so. I just want to know I can be successful at it. Success is some portion of effort and the other portion talent. Maybe when I'm 63 I can give you a percentage but as for now I'm relying on my young wisdom or lack there of. Anyways, I feel like PC will give me a chance to weigh how much I enjoy getting paid to take photographs.





I am going to miss Nacogdoches.

I Blame My Sex

So today I made some mistakes. But at least I solved some controversial issues:

WOMEN CAN'T DRIVE.
Yes it is true after all. Women officially suck at driving. All of them. Why? Because I backed into a car today. I didn't want to be the last one in the caravan because then I would have had to shut the farm gate behind me. No, no. I will not be exiting my air-conditioned car to shut a dirty gate in the middle of a field. I may get a sticker in my foot, after all. In an attempt to avoid such horror, I got too excited and prematurely put my vehicle in reverse. Next thing I knew, my car stopped with a jolt and it was then that I decided it was the appropriate time to look in the rear-view mirror. Ugh. Sure enough, there was someone parked behind me. PARKED. As in, I had to walk around her car in order to get to mine and I STILL forgot it was there. Such an idiot! The damage was only a very dent front license plate and a bashed grill on her car. My sturdy Honda was A-OK. It was the darn hitch that hangs out on my back bumper that penetrated her front. If it weren't for the hitch, probably nothing would have happened. But the hitch was like having a hammer slammed into her car. Thankfully, my new "Love Your Mother" bumper sticker wasn't scratched.I suck. I am a woman. The lesser sex. A man would have heroically and handsomely volunteered to be last so he could shown off his guns and shut the rusty gate with one shove of his muscly forearm.

WOMEN CAN'T MANAGE MONEY.
WOMEN TAKE FOREVER TO SHOP.
WOMEN ARE INDECISIVE.
I went to Lufkin to buy a swim-suit. That is what I went there for and that is what I came back with, plus two dresses. I only had $20 of my own but my gracious mother was fine with helping out (with the good ol' credit card). Swim suits are freaking expensive. A top and a bottom each cost $20! After an hour and a half of being indecisive, and with a 6 garmets in the dressing room at a time limit, I finally decided on a top and bottom combo. Then on my way back to replace a M with a L I came across a beautiful shift dress. It was the cutest thing I've ever seen. OH NO. I definitely didn't have the funds for this. I called my mom and explained to her my situation and she was surprisingly cool with me getting both it and the swim suit. EXCITED. On a last perusal of the sale racks, I found a GORGEOUS dress, just my size, and it fit as if it was made for me. This is a rare occurance. I have an odd body shape that means the only thing that fits me right usually resembles a circus tent. So, needless to say, I had to have this dress. After some cell-phone discussion with my mom, once again, she said I could get them all! (let me just add in here that I never shop. The only clothes I've bought this semester have been from Goodwill so I think this is why my mum was so generous). I paced the juniors section for awhile trying to decide if I really needed the expensive, even when on-sale, dress(es). I called some people to get their opinion, I tried it on again, I sent my friend a picture of it... All pointed me towards the checkout line, number 5, with the nice-looking cashier. I bet he won't judge me by my purchases. It was a good thing I finally checked-out. I think some people were starting to recognize me as that girl who had been here for 2 hours with the same 4 things in her hand. I grabbed some brown aviators for $5.99 because I've been trying to find the perfect pair for years. Who knows! These could be them! The corpulent total burned into my brain. I stashed the reciept in my purse like it was gold. I always had the option of returning, I kept telling myself.
If I were a man I would have waltzed right to the swim-suit section, picked up some trunks, (just my size, and my favorite color - green), and taken a beeline to check-out number 1, because it's closest to the door. I would have been in and out of Target in a matter of 10 minutes top. I would have spent only $15.99, not that times 6.


AMERICANS ARE MATERIALISTIC.
Uh! No Waaaaayyyah!

power

.







i need to waste time

as i wait for this henna to dry

i am sick of the internet

but i'm going to sit here anyways

because the tv is dull

and the book is closed

this chair is nice

it's a circle shape

my face needs moisture

something just clicked

my eyes need moisture

something just clicked

something just clicked

this has gotta quit







.

Unsure but Oh Well...

I took out my lip stud last night.

MIXED FEELINGS.

why did I do it?
1. it became a nervous habit to twist it
2. I constantly messed with it in my mouth. annoying annoying
3. because I was always touching it, it made my face break out
4. I am fair skinned and honestly I don't think it even looked that great on me.
5. I will have to take it out for Pine Cove anyway

why will I miss it?
1. because it was B.A.
2. random ppl everywhere would ask me if it hurt when i got it done. i would respond always, "my nose hurt worse." how cool was I?!
3. it made me different from all the girls who have a nose piercing only. i think at least 40% of girls at SFA have one.
4. because it was cool
5. Amber and I are no longer twins
6. I never got to kiss anyone with it. That was a goal failed...


as you can see, this was a battle to decide. but I finally just took it out. NO MORE.

there's a season for everything

it's spring time now.

i bought a mountain dew from goodwill a few weeks ago.

i'm still concerned about whether or not it was legit.

tasted ok...

Present Presence

I have a key to a house in Abilene.
I opened that door and entered a place where no one was home. All the lights were off, so I went around and turned them all on. I searched each room for evidence of life going on without me. We still got the mail. There it all was, thrown onto the old dining-room table. My mom's plants still thrived in each room. The petals of one had fallen and gotten caught in an invisible cob-web. How elegant. There they were, these spots of pink paused mid-float on the wall. I stared at them for awhile. Pivoting on the hard-wood floor, I tore my eyes from the floating art. I was surprised to see my parents had gotten a new bed. It seemed huge, this king-sized mattress. They had a queen-size bed my entire 'mom i had a bad dream can i sleep with you guys?' life. Do they want to be further apart? No, surely not, I shoudn't think that. I pivoted again, noticed that I pivoted a lot, and then walked to the back of the house. The ice cream man still drove his creepy van around. That same silly melody was still lifting out of it's speaker and into the walls of my house. I laughed at that. I never had money for the fancy ice-creamy treats, just the fudgesicles. My sister's room, not surprisingly, had even more things pinned and nailed to the walls. My room seems less and less like my room every time I come home. I'm sitting in it now. I can hear a bird outside and it's the middle of the night. Yesterday was the first day of spring, so I guess that bird has a right to sing whenever he fine well pleases. The neighbors painted their fence white. I've been looking at a brown fence for so long. The house across the street is white too. It used to be brown... my existence here is being covered up.

Maybe I'm just really really sentimental, or maybe I just use my eyes too much.. Either way, I am splitting in half. Part of me stays here, here in the creaks of the wood and in the dust behind the dresser. The other part moves away and walks in other rooms. I like it all. I've never considered myself to be consumed by the past or the future... just consumed by living both and remembering it all. It's the present I struggle with. Does the present even exist? That breath I just exhaled now belongs in the past and the one I'll inhale in a second is in the future.
It's this lap between breaths that I'm still aspiring for.

Goo

That's my I'm completely in shock sound: "Goo." Yes, I revert back to my most basic baby noise when I'm knocked to the ground. Shocked. I don't even know how to act right now.

My art work got selected to be in the the Texas National 2008 Exhibition. p-WHAT? ME? MINE? It's my final project for my design class. My teacher loved it so I submitted it. I love it too. I spent a lot of time planning it out and when I finally sat down to paint it flowed right out of me; my creative juices? So I'm stoked that it got in... but gee golly, I'm not even a painter. And I'm a freshman! Most of our graduate students didn't even get in. I'm not trying to brag at all... I'm just trying to illustrate why I'm so shocked. I wish I had another word for shocked. That's how shocked I am.

I think God wants me to be an artist.

I think.

Here's what the painting means:
It's called "Peeling Appearances."
We are all guilty of judging, of looking at someone walking past us and thinking that they'd look so much better if they would just slim down a bit. Like we hold some plastic knife that's ready to unskillfully carve away at some human being, just because we can. But why do we have this inclination? Who decided all the model's bodies were correct? It's just a body. It's just a pear. It will taste according to how it's been grown.

I could go on, but I'll leave you all to interpret as you will. Happy St. Patrick's Day. (if you don't know about this guy then you should definitely look him up. He was quite the human being)

Contact-

I believe in hugs. The real ones. Tight ones. Full-frontal tight hugs. Side hugs are worse than hand shakes. Nothing can be firm. I try to squeeze with a side hug and just end up with pressure between their left shoulder and my right armpit. There's nothing fulfilling in my armpit. I'm going to hug you straight on. I will hold you there. I may even pat your back a couple times. The first pat says, "I'm truly glad to see you" and the second pat says, "thanks for hugging me back."

Touch is essential to contact. You cannot have contact without touching. We all need to brush past someone every once in awhile to remind us that we're still here. It's stimulating. I'm not even talking sexual touch, not at all. I'm talking an elbow to side, or a hand to shoulder. It's just nice to know someone feels you back. They can't help it.

In a desperate attempt to fulfill my want for touch, I've had to settle for holding someone's elbow or part of their arm as I talk to them. This has become a habit that I like, I'm not gonna lie. I recently developed a touchy-feely nature that ate off my little sister and close friends back home. I would reach out for a hug or an arm or just a nice pat and rub on the back. That's an odd thing to do with people you've only known a few months, so I've had to tone it down...

But God, I need to feel another's human flesh. Am I the only one here? A lonely tree amongst pillars? Do you bruise like me? Can I hug you just for selfish reasons? My muscles were meant to flex--
I want to rid this void of air between us.
Let's mix lines. Mine can curve up and around, your's can go under. We'll make a knot, make it tight, then untie it flawlessly. In the midst of this bond, our bodies can extract and let go of some things that are our minds can't comprehend. Your shoulders will tell mine about stress and my shoulders will whisper to yours about peace. They'll have this conversation without us knowing. The air we exhale will entangle and float away together. I'll close my eyes... because this is where I am, not back there. All these lines knotting, supporting, and leaving together will form a picture lost in time. Lost in Time but not in Here. My body took a picture of yours and yours of mine. They won't forget their place in the piece.

We over-use our other senses. Our eyes tire from seeing it all. Our ears long for a silent pause that will never come. We taste and smell this city and its produce every few hours. Give touch a chance. It's sick of not being touched back. Clothes and books could care less that we grasp them.



oh, and please don't be afraid to hug me...

Sometimes I like to Write Completely Pointless Blogs

I have: 5-something dining dollars left. I had 120 (?) on January 15th. It's just March 4th. They've all gone to either Starbucks or Bagel Brothers. Worth it? Piss yeah. I have a weakness for good coffee and bagels with cream cheese. and lemon pound cake. and lattes. with two shots, one ain't enough. and boys with nice smiles... but I can't buy them with dining dollars. too bad.

I think: trains sound better in the winter. at night.

I want: to curl up under my covers. but it's too much work getting into pajamas, showering, brushing my teeth, and taking out my contacts. and on top of it all, I'd have to get off the computer. noooooo! this is a problem I have.

I remember: last wednesday perfectly. It was my first time to draw a penis in class. Not that I draw them outside of class. Garfield wheeled that man-sized plastic mustle model into the center and told us to express ourselves. Great, It's facing me. I dived right in though. I drew everything else, even the butt, before finally marking a line about an inch long and a centimeter wide (not to scale) to represent the scary male genital organ before me. whoooooo. that was over. sweat dripped off my forehead. the room finally stopped spinning. I had lived through my first penis encounter! ...even though it was plastic. I am well aware there is worse to come. Life Drawing.

I cut: my hair. bangs and layers.

I should: go to bed now.

I won't: until later.

art office #1

I think it's going to be 8 a.m. all morning. That's when I got here and I feel like that was just a minute ago. It's almost ten though. I guess that's fine with me. But man am I tired. Never go to Bored.com . Never. No matter how bored you are. Actually, I change my mind. Go to it. Look around. It's idiotic. It will make you never want to admit you're bored again. If your life ever gets to the point where there is absolutely nothing, nothing at all, to do other than read "dhow to annoy people" then please, be my guest. But oh my Lord, America, go pick up some trash or take a walk outside. My brief encounter with bored.com has both caused me to lose faith in my generation and changed my life.

Grey, White, Gold, and Blue

Let's go back to friday when my iPod decided to freeze. I had just began my road trip to Dallas (and when I say "just began" I mean it. I hadn't even left campus) and I eagerly pressed play so I could hear mewithoutYou serenade me through my car's speakers. Nope. iPod decided that today was her off day. I was pissed. I hadn't prepared for this so the only CDs in my car were the same four I had been listening to all semester. Or so I thought... I was happy to find that I had my Sigur Ros CDs tucked in a pocket somewhere. So there I was, 7:30 a.m. driving on the windy roads of East Texas through fog that enchanted the distance with mystery. Grey. The men from Iceland were telling me stories with their sounds.
Driving is by far my favorite thing to do. I want to be a truck driver someday.

Spending time with friends from back home, from high school, is surreal. None of us have changed but all of our situations have. I love them all very much and I miss them. We all still argue and dog on each other constantly. This is only entertaining the first day. I can only stand hearing "F--k" used in every sentence for so long. By time Sunday came I was ready to come home to Nac. There seems to be less f-ing going on here and that suits me.


Here's some things I experienced this weekend: (in no particular order because my mind doesn't work that way)

sleeping on a couch: I found this to be quite comfortable. The cushions felt like a Tempur-Pedic bed. Maybe that was just because it was 4 a.m...
eating: I feel like this is all I did. We ate everything from McD's to Olive Garden and from Cafe Brazil to P.F. Chang's. Never at a normal time, either. I ate so much at Olive G that my stomach felt as if I had swallowed a mid-sized boulder.
driving on tangled city highways: whether I was driving or in the back seat staring out the window like a five-year old, I enjoyed this too. We went back and forth between Denton and Dallas (little D and big D) several times.
bluegrassing: we saw the Hackensaw Boys in the famous Granada Theater. I found out I looooove the atmosphere of concerts and old bars. and I like bluegrass. don't hate.
being disgusted: the Northpark Mall is recidulous. It was packed. It had crazy expensive stores. So many stores. So much money. We are such a spoiled, materialistic nation.
being inspired: in the midst of this mall I found a breathtaking sight. In the Starbucks that was thankfully tucked away in a hidden corner, a woman with long, thick white hair in a white shirt sat in the white light of the window. White. She had her eyes closed in some kind of trance. Creepily enough, I was carrying around my camera because of a photo assignment I had to get done. As peacefully as I could I asked her if she would mind me taking her picture. She looked at me slowly with a thin smile. She quietly asked me if I was an art student and I told her yes, I was. She mumbled something about her going to art school herself and then asked me if she could go back to sleep. Well yes, you can, I told her. I got a few shots of her just sitting there. I hope they come out well.
smoking: Most of my friends smoke. Smoke doesn't bother me, I actually like the smell of it. I let them do it in my car and they thought that was amazing for some reason... haha. I basically encouraged them to do it so I could get some pictures of the smoke as some form of movement for that darn project.
being pissed: I don't want to get into the story. In a nutshell: some of the guys act like jerks and then I act like a jerk. I am not a jerk. I have been callused.

Now for Sunday. I drove home around sunset, my favorite time of day. The lighting was gorgeous. Gold. And that caused the shadows to be elegant. Blue. I skipped the loop at one point and took the business route through a town. I decided to stop and take pictures when I saw this. I didn't want to regret not stopping...

Overall: great weekend. glad to leave. glad to come back. Only two more weeks until spring break! Wow.

Skrew You, Webster

I've decided to post random pictures that I've taken. Why? Because I can. I got no other reason other than that. So, this picture... I took it on the look-out floor of a modern art museum in San Francisco. This man in the picture I found to be very peculiar. I mean, he's got a purse. And bad posture. That and that equal peculiar in my book. (who coined that phrase "in my book"? I don't have a book.) Anyhoo, I like it. The reflection is interesting, the room is odd, and the view is real. Great stuff.

I'm not going to class tomorrow. Why? Because I don't want to. I got no other reason other than that. Just kidding, I'm not that much of a jerk to have that as my reason for everything. The truth is that I had an irresponsible day today. I didn't do any homework (namely my three rolls of film I should have shot yesterday). So basically, astronomy is extremely skippable and photography I haven't skipped yet. I'll just get my photos in this weekend when I'm in Dallas. It's more interesting there anyway.

Friday morning when I am finally able to leave Nacogdoches for the weekend, I think I'll probably scream out of pure joy (in the security of my own car, of course). I feel so confined in this small, tree enveloped town. I need to break free and drive away from it all! I feel utterly dumb saying that. (that last statement probably should have gone in parentheses but I feel like I've already reached my limit for this blog.) (oh skrew it.)

Tuesday night something amazing happened. (Unlike tonight when rain clouds covered up the lunar eclipse. pissed.) I was driving to Tat 2 Majik (yes, I do realize this is the most absurd establishment to be driving to, but nonetheless, there I went), and the sky was a brilliant display of oranges and pinks and a violet I had never seen before. It was beautiful! The East Texas sky had finally managed to show me something breathtaking. Good job East Texas, good job. There I was driving down South Street, or 59 by that point I think, Coldplay's "Clocks" weaving loudly through my speakers, and my curly head darting from moon-roof to windsheild to passenger's window just trying to get a full gulp of the spectatcular. Mmm. I. Love. Sunsets.

You know how you can't really remember your freshman year of high school? You've forgotten about that first day of class, even though it seemed so scary the night before. You've forgotten what classes you had, or at least you wouldn't be able to recite your schedule off. The people around you were all new and potential best friends. Everything was new. Even the old paint on the wall and that creeky desk in the corner, it was new to you. You didn't have a routine. You didn't have a set group of friends. All was scattered and fleeting, nothing concrete or still true to this day. And that's why you can't remember it.
I can't remember last semester. It was so scattered. Too many details... too many nothings. Way too many new things. It was an adventure, yes, but I feel like those five months went by in three days. Maybe that's why I decided to write again. Oh boo, I'm confusing myself.

My spelling skills have gone down the drain! I am constantly referring to my computer's dictionary. I spelled "screw" wrong earlier. I wrote "skrew." what the eff?

It irks me to catalogue the happenings of my days in here as if it's a diary. I'd rather write how I feel about things. But right now I just don't know how I feel. That sounds immature, but I just feel numb. Or stopped. Incapable.

I had a migrane today. A good old-fashioned, misspelled migraine.

The West Side's Story

It's February. It's night. It's late. I could easily snap my computer up and shut my eyes. Surely I would begin dreaming as soon as my eye lashes came together. It's three a.m. The time on this says differently because technically, I opened this draft then. Then I watched Atonement. -online, illegally. no matter... it was very good. But it's left me in an extremely melancholy mood. That combined with the hour may cause me to reveal things I probably wouldn't if the sun were up.

The sun...
I enjoy light.
The way it plays a song on everything it touches
--and it touches everything,
so everything plays a song.
Sometimes, soft
soft and lonely
grey shadows in corners
barely moving
blurred.
Other times, sharp
sharp and vibrant
the kind that hurts your eyes
makes them tear
Nothing is clear I suppose.

I'll read that tomorrow and wonder what I was thinking.
but secretly think I'm an absolute genius.

Something's been on my mind the past few days. I keep referring back to it. I wouldn't say I'm homesick. That would imply that I miss my bed and my mom's home cooking. That's not true at all. My bed was old. I had had the same matress since I was old enough to leave the crib. And as for the food, well... that's a tad true. Southwest Chicken Casserole. My stomach growls just ...typing it. Southwest ...there, that's what it is. That is what I have been reminded of as of late. I am not used to this Eastern climate. I grew up camping in New Mexico, Colorado, driving across deserts, seeing distant storms miles and miles away. They used to scare me. They were so dark and ominous. And these storms only lasted for a few minutes, but in those minutes God had his thumb on the end of the water hose. That rain would come down so hard it didn't stop at the ground, it bounced right back up. Where I'm from, my nails would break constantly and my skin would get so dry that it cracked and bled. My hair would lay flatter. The sky was always entirely visible. At home, I'd make it a point to notice the sunset every night. I might drive out to the country or just look out my eight bedroom windows, either way, I'd marvel. They were so grand. I'd find myself driving to work and paying too much attention to my rear-view mirror because unfortunately, I had to drive east. In Abilene, I learned to appreciate red dirt that stained my clothes and mesquite trees that twisted in the weirdest ways. Here... it rains so lightly, and for days at a time. I have to trim my nails. The sky is interrupted by trees constantly. I've got no proof that the sun even sets here. I've never seen it take its last breath at the edge of the Earth, not once, not here. Maybe this darkness is just due to the dense forest that's got the sun in a choke-hold until it's time to play tricks on us again. But there I did see it, there I had proof that the sun was tucked safely in the horizon's cushion, and it's there that I miss.

It took me about fifteen years to appreciate where I lived. Maybe fifteen years from now I will love the East as much as I do the West. But I doubt that.

three-thirty a.m.
amber, if you read this, I hope I didn't keep you awake. I tried to type quietly.

Chillin, mad style. With sentence fragments.

It's a Friday night and I'm in my dorm. Perfectly content. It's cold and wet outdoors. Depressing weather. I've got some Ryan Adams playing quietly, and him combined with the blanket over my feet makes this room feel warm. Earlier I had to walk around out there, and man does that chill set in fast when rain is in the mix.

Yesterday I moved myself from Griffith to Hall 20. No easy task. Once I finally got everything out of my room, into a cart, down the elevator, loaded in the car, driven all the way across campus, out of the car, up the stairs, and into room 207, I was exhausted, because I had to do that pattern five times. FIVE. How was I ever able to stuff all that in my small Honda and get it from Abilene to here? That's what I asked myself repeatedly for five mintues while I stood staring at all the bags and boxes that covered the carpet. How. Amazingly though, I was able to get all my junk put away quite neatly.

All this packing and unpacking made me realize how much unecessary crap I brought with me to college. In fact, I have a whole box designated just for these things. I wouldn't say I'm a pack-rat, I freely throw away what I find to be junk. My problem is that I see beauty and purpose in everything. Yes, a problem. It is a problem because a hand-made turtle whistle that I cherished as a child is presently sitting on my already crowded dresser top. I do not need nor do I ever get the urge to play a quick didley on my turtle flute. Yet, there he is, in all his pointless glory, next to countless other things most college students do not have in their room. In a storage box the same size as the 'pointles things' box, I have my entire book collection. In Griffith I dedicated 75% of my shelving to these books. My lovely books. Half of these books I have never read, but I find it comforting to have them with me. Here there are no shelves. Thus, under the bed they go. My poor books.

Tonight, after some sushi (deelish), I went to further culturize myself at the art opening downtown. There was some really great stuff there. It was all jewelery, and none of it the everyday Zales kind, not the everyday anything kind. These things were weird. I quite enjoyed myself. At one point though, it felt really strange to be there. I thought any minute I would turn around and see my Aunt or my Dad. Actually, this is probably the first art opening I've been to without seeing one of them there. Both artists, my dad and his sister know all the local artists in Abilene. So its guaranteed that whenever I go to anything artsy I will find one of them or one of their friends. When I first realized this it saddened me. I felt lonely in a way ...disconnected. Then I spotted Chris Talbot, then Garfeild (whoops skipped his class on wednesday. avoid... avoid...), and oh there's Gary my previous drawing teacher, and later I talked to Sarah. OHHhhhhh. This is my time. I get to do the schmoozing. No parents to introduce me, I like this. This is a challenge. And most likely my future. I'm an artist. Independent.

A cup o' joe would be great right about now. And a someone to snuggle with too. Is that too much to ask?

Yesterday I interviewed for a summer job at Pine Cove. I really feel like God's leading me towards this one. I had two people who don't even know each other encourage me to apply, and my whole interview went extremely well. Sunday I'm starting Intro to Theology at Grace and that's really going to grow me. I've got two possible mission trips lined up for spring break. I may get to go on both but I don't know what God wants yet. I even get to share about the winter mission trip on Sunday at Crosspoint. I can definitely see that the Lord is pushing me into being more of a leader than a follower. How extremely exciting is that?! I'm your's God, this life is your's.

I think I'll read now.

Sweet Lil Gal

Today I was completely blessed. Completely. I was in the Houston Galleria ice skating with some friends. I didn't fall and I didn't get a snowball thrown at the back of my head (snowball meaning some scraped ice off the ground compressed in a hot hand). But these are not the things that touched my heart. The things that brought a huge genuine smile to my face were two small hands in pink gloves. Taking a break, I was sitting on the side of the rink just enjoying the other people who found it fun to go in circles over and over again. Being MLK Day, there were people everywhere. A happy buz filled the air. Lost in my own thoughts, I was surprised to see on wall in front of me two hands pace one over the other. Slowly, oh so slowly. Nice and steady. Careful... These hands had no face. Whoever they belonged to was shorter than waist-height and a first-time skater. So I sat there laughing at these precious pink paws go from my left to the right, first her left hand, then her right. She was hanging on to that carpeted wall for dear life. So. Cute. When she finally came to the corner where I would be able to see her, my anticipation was awarded with the sweetest little girl I had ever seen. In all pink.

If this had occurred a year ago, I would have cared less. But sometime recently, my motherly instincts began to kick in. Don't worry, i'm no preggo, but I have learned to love children. Their precious innocence and moldability are foreign somethings in the adult world. I look forward to the day when I can pick up my own little Pink and hug her because I'm so proud that she made it all the way around the rink, even if she hung on the wall the entire way.

I don't even like the color pink.

well that didn't work

Earlier I was in this amazing mood to write something incredible. Now I feel like I lost it. It's just like deja-vu, for me at least. When it first happens it's so real and mind-boggling but then a second later it fades away like a lost memory. But then again, that's what it is, right? There I go again, explaining in circles. crap.

I'm in a cranky mood tonight. I'm mad at myself, first of all. I realized this afternoon that I've been concerned with things that are trivial and immature. Like facebook, what i wear, how i act, what my friend's think of me, the list goes on and on. I spent some time reading this afternoon (praise the good lord for 3-day weekends) and it really made me realize how shallow I have been lately, how much information I do not know, and how I've neglected myself, my own being. I want to be able to speak intelligently on politics. I want to tell someone my dream job in complete detail. I want to comfort a friend by backing-up what I say with scripture. But I am not able to do any of these things. I have been slacking.

In desperate attempts to name my blog something both thoughtful and catchy, I brought up the trusty dictionary/thesaurus to assist me. I felt like I was naming a band. I can't imagine how hard it must be to name a band. Everyone has to agree on it AND it has to make you famous. Both mildly difficult tasks. Or maybe it was more like naming a family pet. Similar to the band thing: everyone has to agree (which in a family is near impossible) AND the dog has to like it. Hm. So I typed in "aspire" and bingo sha-bam it spoke to me. I thought the latin roots were so cool. I've always liked latin... maybe i'll take it? Aspire means to hope for. Like I would aspire to be a photographer. The root words for aspire are "to breath." I want to breath photography. How cool is that? Go Latin. We should all aspire for something, small or big. Breathing keeps us alive. We do it whether or not we realize it. We long for things whether or not we realize it. It's built into us. For a purpose. Without hope, without breath, we would remain stagnant, we would die. So this blog is a personal attempt of mine to tap back into my creative thoughts. Writing has always been therapeutic for me. I am not writing this blog to entertain you. I'm writing it to keep me breathing, to take note of how I inhale and exhale situations. Making simple things beautiful is my aspiration.

"Without vision, the people perish"