Home.

Self explanatory.

Goodnight, dear void.

If This Is Love

Vocative

Obnoxious

Mucus

Irresponsible

Torture

Motherhood

8:03am
Roll out of bed
Check on the children
Ditch the errands originally planned for completion

8:40am
See daughter 1 off to work

8:43am
Run to the bank to deposit paycheck two weeks late

8:52am
Drive daughter 3 to campus for her big day

9:07am
Drive to the grocery store to grab some groceries before next campus run.
Pick up treats for daughters and their stressful day

9:57am
Divy up snacks and treats to daughters 4 and 5 and drive them to campus to knock 'em dead

10:03am
Return home to check on daughter 2 and give her her snack before settling into the kitchen

10:26am
Talk to daughter 3 about her performance and remind her that daughter 5 has her treats and snack to keep her going for the day

10:30am
Make chocolate carmel pecan bars for visiting adopted daughter 1 in case she needed something sweet after her flight

11:11am
Make a wish...

11:15am
Begin peeling carrots and potatoes for dinner. Make the whole pan, put tin foil over and put in fridge outside to bake after work

1:13pm
Hop in the car to run to Ryan and Bekah's for a min before going into work

2pm
Work for eight hours and help people find that all their dreams really can come true when they're within the magical walls of Jo Ann Fabrics and Crafts

10:20pm
Drop adopted daughter 7 off at home so she doesn't have to walk home alone in the cold

10:34pm
Arrive at home to check up on the kids and to put food in the oven so we can have it to eat whenever we want tomorrow

After midnight am
Put the kids to bed... or try to at least

1:20am
Take a moment for myself

1:26am
Blog... blog... blog...

?:?? am
Try to catch some shut eye before waking up to do it all over again

I never imagined when I came to university that a year later I would have 5 daughters and several adopted children as well to support and care for. Thank goodness for granola bars and peanut butter crackers - how else could I keep them quiet during Relief Society?
I love being a mom. It has fulfilled a wonderful place in my heart.
Some of my very favorite days are days like today when I get Ole' Blue (the old mini van/ spaceship) out and take my children to and from soccer games and football try outs. There is nothing more rewarding.

Goodnight, dear void.

Imaginary?

Abby Holyoak
Much Ado About Nothing
UVU

What was the artist trying to say?

To me the artist was trying to say that there are crazy things in life and people who we don't always get along with each other but we can still find something meaningful in life. And the people who seem to make us the angriest or the most upset when looked at in a different light can be seen as some of the most wonderful people. I also feel like they were trying to say that even though we don’t always understand why things in life happen the way that they do, they seem to find a way to work themselves out in a way that is better than it would have been had they stuck to the planned course.

How well did the artist say it?

The actors at UVU did a fabulous job at portraying the themes of the play. I thought they really did a wonderful job with the costumes and with the overall feeling of the play. I have been to my share of poor performances in my life, and this was not one of them. I came away very much feeling like they did a great job expressing to the audience the plays views on life and on society. I feel like the director did a great job of focusing on the acting and not getting so caught up in the other parts of the production. It really made a difference to the viewer.

Was it worth saying?

Yes. Yes, it was. These themes are so important to society at large. It is important to realize that even though things go wrong, they will work themselves out. Also, it is important to learn to accept people for who they are. Even if they drive you bonkers, it is important to find a way to accept them and to co-exist. If you can’t do that, you’ll never survive in the real world. I also love the comical parts of this play. It’s important to laugh in life; at yourself and at the irony of life. Sometimes I wonder why my life hasn’t been made into a movie yet because the things that happen to me seem so unreal at times. I backed into my roommate’s car last year a few weeks after moving in. I was so upset. There was a hole in her front bumper and I thought I put it there. I was so distraught about having backed my sister’s car into my roommate’s car because I was late for a meeting that I didn’t take time to laugh at the fact that there is no way my car gentling bumping my roommate’s could have put a giant hole in the front…. But I didn’t laugh. I missed the opportunity to relieve the tension and make the situation better. I wish I would have laughed. These artists taught me once again to take the time to laugh a little when life throws you a curve ball…. Or even when it’s your own arm that throws the curve.

Nice goin' champ

I win all the time. I'm just sayin'. Each of us have our own special talents, and mine is winning. Anyone who knows me knows I like playing games - I used my graduation money to buy games, and I play them whenever I get the chance. AKA whenever I can con my roommates, friends, passing homeless people, weird old creepy Mexicans (NOT) to play with me. And I always win.

Mashed Potatoes and a Thanksgiving full of food,,,

The mashed potatoes were the first to go. Little Bettie hated mashed potatoes and liked the idea of them flying across the table much more than she liked the idea of scraping them off her plate and shoveling them into her mouth. Fling. Before Tommy could reach over to stop his little sister, the mashed potatoes were sailing across the table and... "Plunk!"... right into Mother's hair. Mother didn't know what had hit her when she felt something smash into her scalp. Silence swept through the dinning room. No one dared move a muscle. All eyes shifted from Bettie to Mother and back again. Horror filled faces watched as Mother reached up to feel the massive lump of hair filled mashed potatoes now resting above her right ear.

"Plunk!" Stuffing bounced off Father's nose and it was all over. Food began flying here and there. No one could tell who started in next. Food was everywhere; table, chairs, floor, ceiling, face, legs, toes, mouth, ears. Nothing escaped the Thanksgiving Food Fight of '09. And no memory would forget the moment Mother picked up her fork full of stuffing and bent in back to make the stuffing "Plunk!" against Father's nostrils and bounce clear to Freddy. Every year since then when someone is tired of eating, the fighting ensues. You never know what it's going to be first; butter, gravy, turkey, beats, olives, yams. It could be anything and it could be anyone.

Thanksgiving with a healthy side of Laughter and Fun to wash everything else down.

One Art

For my poetry exam in American Lit, we are doing recitations of poems from our anthology. The poem I chose was one line too short so I chose two. I'm sharing them here... I love them.

One Art: Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

I love this one!!! So much! There are so many things in my life that can directly relate to this poem. I've bolded them for significance. Most of you will probably be able to figure out exactly what it all means...

Goodnight, dear void.

I look like a boy... with a really bad haircut.

My hair is awful. Gross. Sick. Bleck. Ugh. Painful. Two butted. Sigh. Awful. Hard on the eyes.
Disappointing. Grumpy face. Awful.
I hate it. Something must be done. And soon. Before I cry myself to sleep every night. Currently it's only every other night and that's been rough enough.
I have brown hair dye in my room. I'm wondering if it's time to whip that out and let it have its way with my hair. I really love the fading Auburn color of my hair now. But the roots are growing in and I think that's part of my hating my hair so much. I've already gotten my hair cut twice in the last few months because I keep hating my hair. And I still hate it. Something must be done! That's it... I'm cutting my bangs this weekend and dying my hair... if that doesn't work, maybe I'll just shave it all off. This nagging voice in my head keeps saying...."if thy leg offend thee...."

On a side note, let me just say:
I have been praying for a good 8 or 9 months that I would learn to be more humble about my exceeding beauty so I could one day get married. Because at that point in my life there probably wasn't going to be a man who thought I was more beautiful or even as beautiful as I did. This current hair situation is most likely in direct response to my prayers. God does answer prayers. Be careful what you pray for, you just might end up with a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad set of hair cuts... I'll probably be married in a fortnight.

Goodnight, dear void.

The Special Two

She'd never know how great a destiny was her's to fulfill. If she had known then she may never have set foot outside her hillside home to adventure out into the world. She had a sack on her back, shoes on her feet, a little money in her pockets, and a hope in her heart. The hope she would speak of to no one. If she did tell them, she feared they wouldn't understand or that they would try to keep her from obtaining her hope, her desire. She left with little idea of where she was headed or what she was to do when she reached her eventual destination. She thought maybe North, maybe East, but definitely not South. South of her home held little future for anyone who ventured within. A barren wasteland of misused opportunities and unfulfilled and discarded dreams. North. She would travel North for some time until she met the river which would take her East to Calisberg. She had a friend who would put her up on his couch for a night or two until she had a better idea of where she should be headed. What a destiny to fulfill. Oh the places she would go without knowing the fate that was leading her, guiding her by the hand to the people she would need to meet and the places she would have to be in order for things to end happily for everyone. She would find out soon enough that her plans and her ideas for her future were nothing compared to the potential they had to be. She was amazing, filled with a power she had no way of understanding. Not then at least. You would consider yourself a lucky person to have had her in your life for even a moment. You would find yourself changed in a way you didn't know was possible. And she would have no idea she had done it, no idea how she'd done it. To her she'd done nothing any differently than she'd done before. To you it would be phenomenal, to her just a passing moment in life. She would change the world if she but allowed herself to do so. North for now. She would head North and see where that took her. Then afterward... she'd figure it out.

Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah

I'm starting to take life one day at a time.
Loving and living without end or sway
People, and places, and friends I meet
I'm taking them all in one day at a time.
Some days are sad and filled with tears and pain,
Others are lovely with sunshine unscathed.
I'm learning and growing and smiling all the way.
This isn't making the sense I wish it would.
So I'm leaving you here without finishing the words
that might explain more of what I'm trying to say.
Let's all just take things one day at a time.
Stop causing drama and making things dumb.
One day and one day and time as it comes.
Then maybe we'll all know more about what is to come.

Goodnight, dear void.

Wish upon a Star

What do you do when you don't know what to do?
Everything seems right just as everything seems wrong.
Justified yet unjustified, yes - no, yes - no, yes... no.
What do you do when you don't know what to do?
Is this just a dream? will I ever wake up? can I just scream?
Why did it happen, what can I do, where do I go from here?
What do you do when you don't know what to do?
Get in your car and just drive, drive, drive. Eventually you stop.
Get in your bed and sleep, sleep, sleep. Eventually you wake up.
What do you do when you don't know what to do?
Tears come without invitation or force.
Runny nose flowing and you can't find your voice.
What do you do when you don't know what to do?
Do you think I know?
Ha.

A Mean Poem

I wanted to write a mean poem.
A poem filled with spite.
Something to indite them.
To silently accuse their blight.

Then as I wrote it, memories
came rushing in of times gone
by and pictures of the leaves
in fall; how time changes the fawn.

Friendship has its ups and downs,
I've seen it take its course.
Like laughter to a circus clown,
its fire ignites without remorse.

At times dear friends can hurt you, true;
an act done out of care.
Is it worth the friendship skewed
to condemn a thing so rare?

Alliterative Alice

To put it simply, Byron [George Gordon, Lord Byron] was a Negative Nancy, Keats [John Keats] was a positive Patty, and Wordsworth [William Wordsworth] was somewhere in between (In Between Isabella). Byronic melancholy discusses an inevitable doom. Throughout Byron's works, he consistently expresses this inevitable doom over everyone and everything. Nothing can escape it. It is not "Happily Ever After". In contrast, Keats possesses a "glass half-full" attitude about life. In his works, things go wrong but not to the detriment of everyone and everything. It is by no means inevitable either. he sees some doom and gloom but also recognizes the "silver-linings" and the "light at the end of the tunnel"s. Wordsworth is less melancholic than Byron, but more melancholic than Keats. Wordsworth was not a fan of change and can often be seen as a melancholic because he wrote much about the world's changing nature. While it's not "Happily Ever After" for Wordsworth, it's definitely not 'Everyone's doomed so, what's the point'.

Appearance of Productivity

Abby Holyoak
28 October 2009
Paper Stuffs…

There was this one time I was in the Computer lab and didn’t want to look like I was wasting my time. So I started writing this word document…. To look more legit.

Ya.... that's what I call productivity, Baby! It's all about what it appears to be...

Productivity at it's best!

I'm sitting in a computer lab surrounded by people typing and being productive with their lives and I just can't go along with it. I've already spent half an hour reading blogs, chatting online, answering emails, writing missionaries, and there just isn't time sometimes to be productive. You know?
I only work one more eight hour shift and then a five hour shift and then I'm done with work for the week. What bliss. I have much to do this weekend with my time off so no worries there. Study for a test, write a few papers, finish a theater class, play in the leaves (snow maybe...) memorize two poems (one of which I already pretty much have memorized from the number of times it has been quoted to me) Write another paper, watch two movies (Something Odyssey... got it 2001: A Space Odyssey and Blood and Chocolate), hang with the fam, hang with the roomies, sing, dance, laugh, and sleep on occasion. Quite the packed weekend. Plus more... Woof. There is no time for work in all of that. I'm so glad I have off!
Alright, I really should do something more with my life than blog. Considering all the things in my brain right now are just random mumbo jumbo I suppose it's best just to leave you to your own lives for the time being.
So, with that...

Goodnight, dear void.

Symbolism: The Corner House Story

Here's just a little glimpse into a night in the life of The Corner House...

The clock strikes midnight. Derrick reluctantly pulls himself up off the couch and heads for the door. MacKenzie, sleepily trudges behind and follows him out the door. Mari, Annisija and I sit on the couch eating ice cream and watching Hocus Pocus. All is calm and serene. We contemplate noticeably “peeking” through the blinds at Derrick and MacKenzie or “accidentally” walking out onto the porch from MacKenzie’s room “unknowingly” into the doorstep scene that is, no doubt, unfolding. We keep watching the movie. MacKenzie comes back in. All is well.....

Then....

Mari notices a spider crawling on the arm rest of the couch next to her and is up in a screaming flurry. She is followed almost instantaneously by me, with Annisija a close second behind. It's HUGE and scary and gross! Screaming continues as we lose sight of where the spider has scurried. Annisija points to the back of the couch as she stands on the opposite end's arm rest clearly disturbed by the scene in front of her. We're all in the living room now, attention intently focused on the brown couch cover; intensely scanning every inch of the couch for the brown hairy invader. We spot it!... on the end of the couch Annisija has been standing on. Screams! Annisija shoots up into the air, convulses mid flight, into what resembles a mid air side splits and lands on two feet in front of the couch screaming. I scream and run towards the offender, past the couch to my school bag. I grab it as I shoot by in an attempt to keep my school books free from attack. Screams! The arachnid is charging down the couch towards the floor. Screams! Mari grabs a bottle from the obliging floor and lays it in front of the spider's set path. As it enters the jar, Mari tips the jar up and twists on the lid. As she heads to the door she realizes what it is that is being held captive inside the glass curves. She is no longer able to hold it. Adrenaline allowed the capture, however was not enough to stay the fear for the release. Screams! Mari flails the jar around and we all scream and duck away from the container. MacKenzie, who thinks we're ridiculous, grabs the jar and releases the hairy being back into the nature from whence it came. She returns to all of us standing at our battle stations, unmoved, trying to compose ourselves.


Then we begin to laugh. :) "Did you see how high Annisija jumped off the couch?! I didn't know she could jump that high!!!!" Haha.

We continue to laugh. Eventually conversation leads to music. Next thing we know, MacKenzie is pushing play and music fills the kitchen. Dancing ensues... DANCE PARTY! We finish listening to the Beatle songs MacKenzie feels are important for us to experience. The music shifts to Les Mis and we are marching in unison singing full voice... "Do you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men. It is the music of a people, who will NOT be slaves again! When the beating of your HEART echos the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!" We all know the actions neccessary for this song as provided by the choreographer Abby Holyoak as debuted on Sarah's blog alongside a posting on Facebook. We sing. We dance. We laugh.

Kumbaya!!!! We file outside, past the porch to the side walk in front of our house. We arrange ourselves into a circular shape, hold hands (right down, left up), and begin to sing, all the while swaying to either side in turn. We sing several legit verses and then continue as we make up our own words to express our inner sentiments. As we finish, we decide we don't want to go inside yet, so we declare our gratitude for the things in our lives; two things each. (Singing, dancing, love, each other, ice cream, stars, etc.)

It's late. We should have been in bed at least an hour ago. We're having too much fun together for sleep. We take different positions in the living room as we re-enter the house. Roommate prayer! We circle up trying to be serious long enough to be respectful. It's Sarah's turn. She's laughing too much to pray, so we move to Natasha. Prayer over, we hold hands and pass around the "love" squeeze. Discussion resumes, followed by copious amounts of laughter from each of us collectively, as well as, in turn. We discuss our lives; school, work, people at large, people we know, experiences we've had in the recent past, experiences we're currently going through, Mexico, South America, the works. Each discussion ends in peals of laughter.... some even result in Sarah doubled over on the floor snorting from hilariousness.

Sleepiness finally begins to settle in and we each file off into our bedtime routines, thinking about how much sleep we're not going to get and all the things we didn't get done. As MacKenzie finishes getting ready for bed she comes back to Sarah, Natasha, and I in the living room and gives us hugs and forehead kisses. Mari is asleep now, Annisija is in the shower and I'm piddling around trying to clean the kitchen before sleep overcomes me. All the while, Natasha and Sarah lie on the living room floor surrounded by pillows talking to each other about who knows what... just not wanting to move on from the moment.


One by one, each goes to bed. Mari, MacKenzie, Sarah, Annisija, Natasha, and soon I am the only one awake... doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen so it will be ready for whatever the morning brings.

What a lovely life we lead.

Symbolism: The Corner House Story

Goodnight, dear void.

The Girl I Mean To Be

MARY:
I need a place where I can go,
Where I can whisper what I know,
Where I can whisper who I like
And where I go to see them.

I need a place where I can hide,
Where no one sees my life inside,
Where I can make my plans, and write them down
So I can read them.

A place where I can bid my heart be still
And it will mind me.
A place where I can go when I am lost,
And there I'll find me.

I need a place to spend the day,
Where no one says to go or stay,
Where I can take my pen and draw
The girl I mean to be.

-The Secret Garden

A Bit of Earth

It's a funny thing to me... the way life plays out; perfect time and time again.

The way you learn a new word and then all the sudden everyone is saying that word.
The way you read a book and all the sudden people are referencing it everywhere.
The way you look back on things and can finally see why they happened.

Everyone everywhere wonders why.

I want to write more... but I can't seem to express the things I want to say and things I'm thinking.

So, for now...

Goodnight, dear void.

7 Somethings

! Gazebos

" Holding Hands

£ Singing and Dancing

$ The Rain

% Swings

^ Cold Noses

& Eye Contact

Right right now

I want to write things
Lovely things for people to read
About grand adventures
And places I've been
Would you want to read
The words I've written?
Would you feel the passion
Or the sadness in my words?
Would you long to go
To those places I've seen
To see the magnificent sights described?
Would you believe me if I told you
That those adventures took place
In the comfort of my own imagination?
Oh the places you could go too.

Happiness in a Mug

My life would be a very sad, awful place without the ability to talk to God and drink Stephen's mint hot chocolate.

Emily Dickinson

I like a look of Agony,
Because I know it's true --
Men do not sham Convulsion,
Nor simulate, a Throe --

The Eyes glaze once --
and that is Death --
Impossible to feign
The Beads upon the Forehead
By homely Anguish strung.

"There's no difference between the tear drops and the rain..."

Tears of joy, tears of pain
The difference between the two is slim
It seems that at some point they intertwine
As much as the tears are of pain, they are of joy
Pain that it had to happen
Joy that there is something greater than the tears
The only thing better than tears alone is tears in the rain
To have the whole world crying with you
The heavens weeping openly alongside your pain and joy
It encompasses both your joy and pain and so much more
Some even say tears and rain are the same
Whether they be the same or different
They have the oportunity to change their surroundings
For better or worse
It is up to you

Write write

Blogging tendencies are what drive me to writing today.

As most of you lovely readers know, I work at Jo Ann Fabrics and Crafts in Orem, Utah.

It is a splendid place of business home to some local celebrities and all around stupendous people. I am one such celebrity. Not everyone who has been privileged enough to encounter me knows me by name, or can tell you that I've died my hair three times in the last year, have a family that lives in Hong Kong, and that I'm majoring in English Education... some of them can. That is irrelevant and besides the point. Ask nearly anyone who has shopped there in the last year if they know the employee who sings and they will more often than not know exactly who I am, sans name and details.

I enjoy my job. Not because working retail is a dream ( it's not...) or because I get paid an awesome hourly wage (Yeah right!). I love it because I can do anything I want whenever I want. I can be funny, gloomy, excited, enthusiastic, mean, lovely, witty, charming, insane, and so many more, all in one shift. I don't have to ever be tied down to any certain emotion. I can check people out quickly or slowly, make things complicated or difficult... whatever. No one knows me personally so no one knows if this is typically just how I am or not.

Closing shifts are my favorite. Once it hits 8pm, the store is mine. If you come into my store an hour before we close, you are subject to all things Abby. I sing without restraint after 8:00 and there is not stopping me until I clock out and get in my car. It is a frequent thing to hear on the radio after we lock the doors for the night, "Alright, Abby, what musical are we doing tonight?"

And so it begins. We sing and dance, twirl and prance. We work in there as well. Putting away fabric and crafting goods has never been so much fun before, I'm sure. We hide behind corners and jump out and scream, we mock and we poke fun at every employee around.... even some that are not around. Phantom of the Opera, Man of La Mancha, Singing in the Rain, Newsies, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Music Man, Into the Woods, Les Miserables, you name it... we sing it.

Someday I'm going to be on Broadway. I can feel it in my bones. Not for my amazing vocal abilities or my stunning acting skills, but for my reputation. Who wouldn't want to see The Singing Jo Ann's Girl from Orem, Utah? I imagine that my debut on Broadway will be in a few years when My roommates and I have finished writing, Fabric Talks Too : A Jo Ann's Musical. Look for it on the billboards. It will feature debuting performances from Abby Holyoak and many more up and coming vocalists. Until then, come stop by around 8pm on just about any given week night. I'll be there. And I'll be singing. My name tag might not say Abby on it, but you'll know me when you hear me.

Goodnight, dear void.

Sleep Time

I should be sleeping right now but I just can't....

They say that time flies by.
To where does it go?
Why would it want to leave me behind?
How is it that a moment can be fleeting
And yet last forever all at the same time?
The next five years seems like a lifetime,
When the last five have disappeared in a whirl.
Time. Four letters. The same as love and life.
It seems to speed up and slow down without warning.
It doesn't stop for anything or anyone.
Time.
They say that time flies by.
To where does it go?

Still Laughing

I was going to blog later, then I read Gordon's blog and I could resist!

The people next to me in the computer lab right now think I'm insane. My random bursts of laughter are not nearly as appreciated as they should be. If only they knew about the night I had last night...

I have a friend, let's just call him Joe. Joe and I have been friends for a while now. We talk often and he has become a very important person in my life. Last night I was going through an insecure spell in our friendship. I felt that the past little while Joe had been a bit distant. I felt as though he didn't really care about me as much as I once had thought he had. (Or as much as he should, because who wouldn't care about me a lot?! I mean honestly?!) When I told him this, he didn't say anything. Being a girl, I knew that the correct response to my expressing my insecurities was for him to refute them. To tell me I was crazy and that he did too care about me. When he didn't respond this way I did the natural thing and interpreted his silence as confirmation of my insecurities. I hung up the phone convinced I meant nothing to Joe and cried for the next hour after telling as many people as I felt needed to know immediately that Joe and I were no longer going to be in each others' lives.

Joe cares about me. He is my friend and I am his. I love communication.

Take the time today to tell the important people in your life that you care about them and that you're grateful to have them in your life. Even if you think they know, we all go through insecurity spells from time to time. You can never be told too many times that you are cared about.

I love you guys. If you're taking time to read about my crazy, often insane, life then I love you. If you think you know who Joe is... you don't. Joe is the characterization of a person we all have in our lives who we wonder about. Male, or female. Do they really care that I'm in their life at all? If I stopped talking to them today, would they even notice?

Stop being insecure in your relationships. Stop assuming (because we all know what assuming does...) that people don't care about you. Look for the best in people and you will find it.

If you think you might be being a Joe in somebody's life, you probably are. So do something about it. It's OK to be attached to people. It's OK to tell them that you care. It's OK to be the first to tell them you are grateful to have them around and it's OK to call them up just to say, "Hi" or to see if they want to go adventuring.

Initiating something every once in a while rejuvenates the soul. (Feel free to quote me.)

Goodnight, dear void.

Something

Today is my day off.

I rolled out of bed... late. Ugh. Grabbed my preppy sweat pants (because I couldn't find my ghetto sweat pants) and a jacket and drove to school.... late. I finally got to Brit Lit (Yes, late. Stop judging me!) where we had a lovely discussion about the Victorian Era; the literature, the politics, the roles of women and men, the technology, evolution. After class, I walked to the shuttle bus stop with my friend, Amber (or is it Amanda. I'm never quite certain. I just avoid saying her name and call it good.). It was a beautiful, chilly, sunny morning. I love when its just cold enough for a sweater. I love the way your nose gets chilled first and you know its autumn and soon the snow will be falling again.

It's been a year. A whole year. A year of school, a year of my roommates, a year of the corner house, a year of knowing people, a year of work. Yesterday, one of my very favorite guests came into work. (I work at Jo Ann Fabrics and Crafts) I was scheduled at the cut counter which doesn't happen very often. As I was cutting for this guest and we were chatting about the most recent project she was working on (a wedding dress she designed from her customer's sketch of what she wanted), and I realized that it was almost exactly a year ago, at that very cut counter, that I met her. A year. Tomorrow when I wake up, it will be two.

Do you ever feel like you can't really talk to the people around you about what's really going on inside of you? Not because you don't want to or because they speak a different language or something... but because there just aren't the right words to be able to explain in a way in which they would be able to understand. Because it's so real and so personal and so close to you that no one else could possibly really understand at all. Because they're not you. They haven't been where you've been and though they partly understand, its just not the same.

I'm happy. To say more would be to attempt to breach the above mentioned phenomenon.

Why is it though, that as I was sitting today thinking about life that I began to wonder if in my being happy I've made others unhappy? Have I been so self-involved and so inwardly focused that I've stopped taking other people into consideration? How do you find a balance between what you need to do to be happy and what you need to do in order to help others not be unhappy? Have I alienated people I care about without realizing it? Have I made them feel small or insignificant? How do you even go about finding that balance and repairing the relationships you may have damaged along the way?

Goodnight, dear void.

Square

Today I sat for hours drawing shapes on a page
Mindlessly drawing, the hours flew by
Stars, squares, circles, lines, interconnected
Sometimes my life feels like that page.
Stars overlapping squares surrounded by circles
All of these shapes interconnected by time.
The longer I sit here, the more shapes appear
The ink from the pen creating them at will.
What will come next? A square or a star?
Only the pen knows.
Or is it I?

Sally

Sally was a poor girl. She didn't have much, but for what she did have she was truly grateful. She was a quiet girl. One who sat in the front of the classroom, did all the work, never spoke unless spoken to. She had friends that no one else knew existed. They were heros from her favorite books and from the stories she wrote in her room at night under the covers with a flashlight. She wrote stories of dragons and princes. In them the fair maidens were the ones who came out of the woodwork just when you expected something else to go wrong. She imagined that she belonged in this world, instead of the world in which she lived. She loved the way she could escape and suddenly be dressed in her favorite ivory ball gown when life got hard, or when life just wasn't working out the way she wished it would. She was a poor girl. She didn't have much, but for what she did have she was truly grateful.
One day Sally's life changed. It wasn't the day she met the charming boy in her physics lab. She wasn't swept off her feet. No, that wasn't it at all. She talked quite frequently with that lad but he wasn't what changed her life. One day Amber asked if she wanted to go over to her house to make s'mores in her backyard and have a pillow fight. Sally knew from all the stories she read and mostly from the story she'd written that a man was not what made all the difference in life. One day, Sally imagined a boy may indeed sweep her off her feet and they would live happily in the now and then in the after. But for now, it wasn't a man that Sally was looking for. She didn't need a man to save her from anything. Amber was her first friend, and for that Sally was truly grateful.

I just love when my brilliance shines through!

I'm a Gilmore Girls fan. I'll openly share that with anyone and everyone. Often when I watch I find that I miss out on most of the funny references they make because I just don't know as much as Lorelai and Rory do about pop culture and the world at large.
I was watching today while I was being super productive, don't worry, and realized that I catch a LOT more references now then I ever used to!
For instance, today, I was watching the episode in Season Five when Lorelai calls Luke when she's super upset after her parent's vow renewal ceremony and she references The Way We Were.... and not only did I totally know EXACTLY what she was talking about but as soon as she picked up the phone to call him, I thought, awe... that's just like in The Way We Were when Katie calls Hubbell because he's her best friend and she just needs her best friend to come over and be with her.... and then Lorelai dropped the reference and my life was complete. I died, and am in heaven, now.

"Its irresponsible to go without blogging for as long as you have..."

My dear roommate and friend, Sarah informed me that I've been irresponsible in my blogging habbits and that she was very disappointed and wanted to see improvement immediately. So, Sarah, this if for you.
I'm not gonna lie, I've thought about blogging many, many times this week. But everytime I just didn't feel like I had anything pertinant, funny, interesting, or even lovely to say.
This week has been filled with change and growth, neither of which have been very fun or welcomed. But nevertheless, they've come.
Why does life have to keep changing? Why, when it rains, does it pour? Why does life just have to be hard sometimes, for no reason at all? [Remember the Titans] Why do people have to tell you things you already know in order for you to really understand that they are true? Why do people always want other people to be happy all the time? Why is it so wrong to be sad sometimes? Why don't people cry more in hopes of finding a smile deep down underneath the tears?
I'm grateful its Sunday. Sunday is the hope of the week. Without Sunday my week wouldn't function in the same way. It allows me to refocus and see again, that life has a purpose and a meaning. My life means something. If to no one else, to God. He knows me and what I'm going through. He knows when I'm only smiling because I don't know what else to do. I couldn't be more grateful for that than I am today. When all words fail, He knows.
I'm grateful for change. Without it I would be happy all the time. And I would never have the opotunity to have my heart ache. Its a necessary part of life. One I'm not always such a fan of originally but one I've never regretted when I've looked back over the course of my life.
I'm grateful for grad school. Had you asked me if I was grateful for this, even thirty minutes ago, I would have (very strongly and clearly) said that I hated grad school. But I don't hate grad school. I'm grateful for grad school. The end. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Haha.
This is not exactly what I had planned on writing this morning but I suppose its just what needed to be said. Life does not always go the way I want it to, or the way I sometimes think it should. And sometimes its still makes me sad that life has to be the way that it is. But for now, I have the hope that the future will bring more than I ever could have expected, as a direct result of the way things are now.

Ready or not... here I come!

This is it. Number one blog post. I'm a little nervous and slightly intimidated and worried. Some of the people I admire the most are blogger extraordinaires and I would hate to be a disappointment to them. But, I'm a talker. Ask anyone in my life. I have to talk the talk before I decide if I want to walk the walk. I don't really like advice from people unless I ask for it. I need to talk to people, not for them to solve my problems, but so I can hear and see all my options in front of me... that way I can fix my own problems. That said I'm going to admit freely that the thing that attracts me most to this thing people call "blogging" is a line from one of my favorite movies...

Kathleen Kelly: "Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, not small, but valuable. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave?So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't be the other way around? I don't really want an answer, I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So goodnight, dear void."