What do I want to do?

This evening I was at CVS and the cashier and I began discussing school, because evidently she is in school as well. I asked her what she was majoring in and what school she was attending. Then she was asking me where I went and what I was majoring in. Before I could explain that I already had a degree and was working on my masters, she stopped me and said not to tell her because she wanted to guess.

She guessed art.

Art? Really? I told her I liked to do artsy things, but that I wasn't very good at it, which is true. I love painting and doodling and am pretty crafty when I set my mind to it, but I am not artistic. Anyway, so I told her what my degree was in and what I was getting my masters in. She asked what I planned to do with it. And granted, that is a legitimate question, but it's pretty much in the name. I'm not going to say what it is, but it's like asking somebody who tells you that they are in pharmacy school, elementary education, or nursing school what they want to do. I mean, it's not even med school where you could be asking what field they are going into when you ask what they are going to do with that. I guess the same could be said for nursing since there are many different types of nurses, but still. My masters pretty much gives me the one option. There is some flexibility, of course, and I can do extra things that would allow for me to do things outside of my one specific thing. Maybe I am being too critical. I have been asked that question before, though. Maybe it is the snark in me, but I find it highly amusing.

And on that note, it is two in the morning here and I am still awake. Good thing I don't have anything to do tomorrow!

Weird

After getting beers with my one childhood friend on Monday evening, I came to the realization that I am the world's only 24-year-old virgin. I mean obviously that is not true, but sometimes it certainly feels like it. Even though I chose choose this. Part of it too is that the opportunity has not ever really presented itself. I have never been in a relationship, much less one that was serious enough to even begin discussing that. And again, I choose to wait and intend to wait until I am married. Regardless, I know it makes me weird. And it bothers me, which is probably just about the craziest thing ever for a few reasons. First of all, I am weird. I embrace my weirdness, and I fully own up to it. It is what makes me who I am. Weird does not necessarily equal bad or wrong. Second of all, the only main reason it bothers me is that I apparently refuse to stop playing the comparison game. Even though I cannot wait to get married and have sex (and yes, I realize how superficial that sounds; that is not how I mean it in the least), I don't want to not be a virgin because that would mean that I would have had sex with someone other than the man I will spend my life with.

Since I couldn't stop dwelling on it, I did the only thing I ever do when I can't stop dwelling on something: text best friend. It is a mixed bag with him sometimes. At times he will tell me to stop whining and to get over whatever it is I am whining about. Or he will tell me that it will be okay. Usually he is right, but sometimes I need more than for him just to say that. Sometimes, though, best friend strikes gold with his responses, and this was one of those times. He essentially told me that my choosing to wait was one of the things he respected most about me and that even though he knew he couldn't change things, he wished that his fiancée would have been his only. Of course he did also mention the connection that comes along with having sex with the person you love and how much it would suck to get married and then for it to not be there, which I get, but I also realize that I am not going to know any different. 

Truly, I think it goes back to the fact that pretty much everyone around me is in a relationship of some sort and I am not. I never have been. And some days, most days, really, it feels like I never will be. And even though I don't want to live a life where I am constantly comparing myself to others because, hello, I am living my life, not theirs, I also realize that society has a timeline by which I am expected to follow and if I don't then I am, well, weird.

Because I like clichés

I have spent portions of the last week and a half binge watching Friday Night Lights. Such a beautiful, fantastic, well done show. This is at least the third time watching it all the way through, and I know it won't be the last. Part of the reason I have been binge watching it is that I, quite literally, have nothing else to do. I mean sure, I am working some, but that really is about it. I finished my Christmas shopping and wrapping last week, I had a Christmas party at my apartment on Monday night, so my apartment is sparkling. Except for the four foot by 18 inches by one foot box that is laying on the floor just inside my entry way because Target, in all its gloriousness (and I don't say that in complete sarcasm; I do love Target, but I am a little frustrated with them at the moment) left out one two-inch dowel for this fantastic entry way bench my grandma got me for Christmas. ONE. And it will take seven to ten days for it to arrive. I was am quite disappointed about that. I mean aren't they supposed to include extras of all the parts? I wanted to complain when the customer service person told me 7-10 days, but what was she going to be able to do? Apologize? I'm sure she has talks to her fair share of a*holes in a day. I did not want to add to that. So if you are reading this, Target, I am disappointed. You are lucky that I am so infatuated with you that it will not cause a problem in our relationship.

I wrote an intensely long post last night and ended up not posting it. Everything I said in it was true, but it was also mean spirited. I feel conflicted about it. I mean, the entire purpose of this blog is to be honest. Suffice it to say, I am being incredibly, INCREDIBLY, judgmental about a certain situation that is occurring right now in my life, and while I find the situation absolutely ridiculous and am fairly certain it is not going to end well, I also realize that I have given my word regarding said situation and that I need to be supportive.

Oh being vague. When I re-read this post at some point in the future, I will probably have no idea what I was talking about, and that is okay.

This evening while I was watching FNL, I couldn't help but miss people. Not necessarily one person in particular, just people. I started thinking about relationships. About my friends. About my singleness (because, duh, I can't write a blog post and not mention that I am single). I finally realized something. I think. It is that I miss having a person. For most of my life, other than 7th grade, which was by far the worst year of my life, I pretty much always had a person. You know, someone who, pretty much no matter what was there. They were my go to person and I was theirs. At various times I had several. And most of the time, I was one of a few go to people for them. Which was fine. I think that is where the whole relationship thing gets me most. Because everybody almost everybody in my life is in a relationship, they basically have a built in go to person. Their one go to person. And I don't have that. I mean I do. I have great friends and a wonderful family, and they are all helpful and special to me in their own way. But none of them are my person because their person is their boyfriend, girlfriend, fiancé, fiancée, husband, or wife. Which is great. I am not hating on that or on them. I do not expect to be their person. That is silly and unrealistic. But that is kind of the point. I am not jealous that these boyfriends, girlfriends, fiancés, fiancées, husbands, and wives are not my person. I am envious that they have a person. Maybe that is weird. I don't know.

And I also realize that having a person is not going to magically make my life better or somehow make it complete or anything like that. I know that. Even though I am an introvert to the core and like my alone time. Well, need it to be more specific, I do get lonely at times. I also don't want my loneliness or desire for a person to get me into a place where I settle for less than what I expect out of a boyfriend/husband.

I try to remind myself that I have the opportunity to water grass that most of the people in my life no longer have the opportunity to water. The grass isn't greener on the other side. It is green where you water it. My days as a single person are limited. Or maybe they aren't. I don't know. But if I spend them being envious or jealous of the grass next door, down the road, or on the other side of town, I miss the potential to have bright green grass in my own front yard. Frankly, that seems like a sad and depressing way to live my life.

Can't stop

I never intend to go so long without posting. Sometimes life happens, though. It has been a busy few weeks.

Got to spend some time with best friend and his fianceé, time with family at Thanksgiving in brother and sister-in-law 3's new house, time at the beach with my mom, brother and sister-in-law 2 (and their dog and super cute new puppy who I am kind of obsessed with). And now that I am home again, I am finally getting to spend time by myself. I love my family, but I am an introvert. Being around anybody, no matter how much I enjoy being around them and love them, is overwhelming after a while.

Somewhere in that time frame, I had a miniature freak out where I questioned if I really believed in God. Not necessarily his existence per se, just who he was. That probably makes no sense. I had been pondering for a while what happens to babies/small children/individuals with low mental capacity when they die if they die before they have a chance to accept/reject/understand that Jesus died for them. Anyway, it finally came to a head and I freaked out about it for about a day until I realized that, hey, I should probably see what I can find in the Bible about that. Nothing super specific is ever said, but there are several references that make me comfortable enough to believe that they do go to heaven.

My course work for grad school is done, which is just about the weirdest thing ever. I am excited, but it is also really hard to believe. As long as nothing weird happens with my internships (which are just pass/fail classes), I will graduate from grad school with a 4.0. I know grades aren't everything and that after I get my first job, they really won't matter in the least, but I am still pretty proud of myself. Despite that, none of my grades are posted yet, and I am not being very patient about it.

Earlier this afternoon, I made some sugar scrub (recipe here) and was decorating the jars after I finished. I had this weird realization that this could be the last Christmas I have as a single person. Of course I also know that I could have many more after this one, but it is weird to think about. I always get somewhat reflective toward the end of the year, so I am just realizing how much things can change over the course of a year.

Last year if you had told me that best friend would be engaged and that I was going to be a bridesmaid in his wedding, I would have laughed at you.

If you had told me that I would rely on Wednesday/Tuesday nights at Chili's as if my life depended on it, I would have thought you were weird.

Had I known that I would make it through practicum without once questioning if this is what I want to be doing and almost always feeling confident and comfortable with where I am thus far, I would have said you were lying.

Other things are pretty much the way I would have thought.

But really, if you think about it, it only takes one little thing. One instant, really, to potentially change everything.

And I can't stop thinking about that.

There's a mouse in the house!

On Sunday night, if you woke up around 11:00 P.M. eastern time, I apologize.

Why might I have woken you up? Well, I screamed. I have the kind of scream that can curdle blood. I don't often scream, but when I do, I give it all I've got. And then a little bit more for good measure.

So here I am on a Sunday night, just entering my room after a delightful shower where I shaved my legs for the first time in a week, when I notice a little brown speck on my pillow.

"What in the world?" I thought. Hoping that maybe it was just a piece of dirt or a fuzz from my brown blanket.

So I did what any sensible person would do. I picked up the brown speck.

"I think that might be poop."

Again, "What in the world?"

So I go wash my hands as if my life depended on it, and return to my room to see if I can figure out what is going on. I lift up my pillow and it happens.

A mouse.

A MOUSE goes scurrying across my bed, leaps off onto the floor, and runs into my closet.

By this point, I am wondering how long it will take before somebody knocks on my door and am trying to determine what the best way to get my heart to stop beating 200 bpm is.

The mouse is still alive and well, tricky thing. Robbing the grave. Or something. I have had four traps set since Monday, and my apartment complex put two more out on Wednesday (not exactly sure why I bothered contacting them Sunday night if they were going to take three days to do anything, but that is another story). It freaking ate the peanut butter off of one of the traps last night and didn't get trapped.

On the bright side, my apartment is cleaner than it has been in months.

Edit: When I came home this evening from a patio/high school t-shirt party, there was a mouse in the trap. Dead mouse, trap, and the two grocery bags I used to pick it up are now in the dumpster outside.

I will sleep more soundly tonight.

Look for the good

"I am still determined to be cheerful and happy in whatever situation I may find myself. For I have learned that the greater part of our misery or unhappiness is determined not by our circumstance but by our disposition." -Martha Washington

Love this. Love her.

Several years ago, something happened that made me realize that I needed to put my life into perspective anytime anything bad happened. I don't always do it. In fact, I probably do it way less frequently than I realize I do, but when I do put things into perspective, I always feel better. Always.

I would say that one event, as inconsequential as it was (the sprinkler system in my apartment at the time burst), it has totally and completely changed my life and the way I choose to look at things.

Life is beautiful, but it's only beautiful if you make it that way. I know that sometimes there are things in life that are beyond our control, but I also know that, even when things do suck, there is good in everything if you look for it.

Perspective (As if I haven't written about that before)

Today, I was in the car with my site supervisor for my internship. Not an every day occurrence. Actually not an occurrence at all until today when it happened twice. That is beside the point, though. She is older than I am, which I feel like should be a duh since I am 24 and she has the same degree I am working on, but again. Beside the point. Older enough that she is definitely a mentor and it isn't weird that she is my supervisor, but close enough to my age that I can relate to her without much difficulty.

Back to the car.

So we are leaving the site to go to a presentation when she gets a text message from her child's daycare about her child. Everything was fine, but the content of the text message made her ask me if I was sure I wanted children.

Jokingly I said, "Welllllllll."

The truth of the matter is, though, there isn't anything I want more in life than to have children, but I just told her that yes, I was sure, but that I also knew it would be a while.

At that point, she asked how old I was and she told me that I should wait until I was 30 to get married.

It was so interesting to hear her perspective on it since, as I mention pretty much every time I write a blog post, almost everybody I am friends with is engaged/married or at least in a relationship.

Perspective. It's a funny, funny thing.

I'm so grateful and thankful to get to live my life right now the way many 24-year-olds may not.

I, quite literally, have no responsibility other than myself. Want to eat a banana and some crackers for dinner? Sure. Go grocery shopping at 10:30 at night? Hey, why not. (Side note, I freaking love night time grocery shopping and am grateful I live in a part of town where it is safe to do so). Mostly, though, I am continually realizing how many amazing people I get to have in my life right now.

When else in my life am I going to get to see my friends at least once a week every week?

When else am I going to have multiple people in authority positions that are not my boss that are able, in their own ways, to speak truth into my life and provide encouragement with where I am at, even if where I am now is not where I want to be eventually?

Perhaps because I don't know what my life will look like down the road, I am not able to see the ways that it, too, will be beautiful. I also realize that I only get 365 days to be 24, and I realize that while there are beautiful things about every single chunk of 365 days, that if I fail to appreciate the 365 days of being 24, regardless of if 24 looks like what my 16 year old self thought 24 would look like, I am going to live a life of ungratefulness and comparison. And maybe, too, if my 16 year old self thought that 24 would be different than what it is, my 32 year old self is probably not what I think it will be.

That's okay, though, because I know that no matter what happens between now and 32, it will be beautiful if I let it.

Life is beautiful, amazing, perfect, incredible, and I think I so often get stuck on the things I don't have or play the comparison game with the highlights of other peoples' lives that I forget that, right now, I am where I want to be, with people I couldn't have even begun to imagine getting to live life with, doing exactly what I want to be doing.

And that, my dear (nonexistent) readers is why perspective is a beautiful, crazy, weird, funny, perfect, glorious thing.

Adventures at the mall

On Thursday, I went to the mall to return a few things I had ordered online, and then I also needed wanted to get some candles from Yankee Candle. Every southern girl needs some fall candles. And I had a coupon, so it was basically a no brainer.

The weird mall trip started as I was returning quite a few items of clothing. The lady helping me had never done an online return before and ended up choosing one of the wrong items when she scanned the receipt, so lucky for me (and her), she had to do the whole thing again. In the mean time, a mother and her three elementary aged daughters came up in line behind me to make a purchase. The four of them clearly lacked the concept of personal space as all of them were in my bubble at some point in time. I was awkwardly shuffling around while the girls kept moving from one side of the register to the other. The return finally got finished, and I went on my merry way. Or so I thought.

On my way from making returns to the Yankee Candle store, I walked by one of those booths they have in the middle of most malls where they have pushy sales people that want to talk to you or get you to try something. Normally I am pretty good about avoiding eye contact and will just keep walking, and it has never been an issue. So here I am, walking through the middle of a mall I am still not incredibly familiar with and am about fifteen feet away from one particular booth when the guy working there grabs a card and starts reaching toward me and looking at me. I avoid eye contact and keep walking. By the time I have gotten to where he is standing, you know fourteen feet later, he practically has this card in my face. As I walked past him, I heard him mutter under his breath something about being rude.

False. You, sir, were the one being rude. You stared me down from fifteen feet away, invaded my personal space, and then had the nerve to say that I was being rude? Really?

After making my purchase in Yankee Candle (Farmer's Market, Autumn Wreath, and Red Apple Wreath, YUM!), I ventured to the Hallmark store to purchase an engagement card, where I discovered that Hallmark sells some really weird cards, so if your greeting card needs include losing a tooth, potty training, new cat, new dog, new car, U.S. Citizenship, or feast day (whatever that may be), Hallmark is your place.

Vulnerable

Enough has happened in the last two weeks to write an entire book, but I will refrain.

Today, after months of planning and preparation, best friend proposed to his girlfriend. She said yes, of course.

I got a text from her while I was running, and a phone call from the two of them this evening.

After my recent issues with engagements, I was surprisingly happy. Not that I'm not always happy, I just expected for there to be a little twang of sadness too, but there wasn't. Perhaps it is that I had been mentally prepared for this day for the last, oh, three months. Perhaps it is that I am legitimately friends with both of them and found out from them instead of facebook, twitter, or instagram.

This morning, I opted to sleep in instead of going to church. Normally when I do this, I just have a lazy morning or get started on school work. Fall break is this week, though, and I am banning myself from doing school. For today, at least. I probably do need to do a few things during the break, but I will cross that bridge when I come to it. Anyway, I decided instead to watch the service that the church in which I grew up streams online on their website. I am so glad I did. So glad. The sermon was preached by a man who is the preacher at a daughter church and is probably our most frequent guest preacher. His sermons are often some of my favorites. He had one a few years ago at the 4th of July on unforgiveness that stuck with me. Today it was about how God is a relational God and because of that, we are designed to be in relationship with one another, and part of being in relationship with one another involves being vulnerable.

It was exactly what I needed to hear. I'm not one to be vulnerable, even with the people who know me the best and love me the most, because even though being vulnerable produces growth, being vulnerable can be hard and gives people the chance to hurt you.

He shard this fantastic quote from Hiding from Love: How to Change the Withdrawal Patters that Isolate and Imprison You by John Townsend. Townsend says, "Attachments occur when we take the risk to allow someone else to matter enough to hurt us if they choose to."

Whoa. I'm the person who intentionally chooses seclusion because it is easier, safer, than attachment.

The preacher went on to, basically, say you can't have it both ways. You can't simultaneously be in good relationship with others and also expect to never get hurt. It's part of life. Part of being in relationship with others is that they are going to hurt you. It's inevitable, but the truth of the matter is that, even though I don't often live this way, the pain that comes from being vulnerable is easier than the pain that comes from loneliness.

In some ways, I think that is why I started this blog. My desire to be vulnerable. Of course, only I would make a blog for that purpose and then fail to share it with anyone that knows me. It's easy to be vulnerable with complete strangers that have no idea who I am and whom I will never meet. Plus there is the fact that I don't have any regular readers, but that is beside the point. The point is that, after over 100 posts, I am still choosing not to actually be vulnerable because I am still choosing not to share this with anybody who could actually hurt me.

My team

I am about to (pretty much) reveal where I am from and make it relatively easy to guess where I live. I think I am okay with that.

I grew up in a college town. In the southeast. As in a southeastern conference college town. This meant that from the time I was born until I moved away to go to college my sophomore year, I lived in a town in which Saturdays in the fall were planned around football.

Being the nonconformist that I was am, I hated football. The super bowl was about the extent of my football watching, and even that was hit or miss. That is until I, after moving back home for a year after college, moved away again to a city two hours away where people are fans of teams other than the SEC team that I spent eighteen years being annoyed by. Slowly but surely, this weird thing started to happen. I would catch myself watching football games. On Saturdays. This other weird thing happened, too. I would cheer when that team intercepted the ball. Scream when they scored. Heart would pound out of my chest waiting for a call. I avoided it for 24 years, but after the game that team, my team, played today, I don't think I can deny it any longer.

Did they lose? Yeah, they did, but damn, they played a hell of a game. When your unranked team that has largely sucked for the last five to seven years loses to the number six ranked team by three points, it may not be a win, but it is certainly a victory. A step in the right direction. Made even more glorious by the fact that the douche bag that the entire city, and yes, I do mean the ENTIRE city hates got fired from a certain job last weekend, I would say that it has been a good week for that team. For my team, and oh it feels good.

Priorities

Last night in class we did an activity of sorts. Perhaps activity is the wrong word. I don't know. I had seen it done before. Take a jar and fill it with golf balls, and you'll say it's full. Fill it with pebbles. It's full. Add in some sand. Yeah, full. And then for good measure, you add some sort of liquid. To really make it full.

We had to make lists of the things that are our golf balls, pebbles, and sand, and then we ended up talking about them. The golf balls being the "big" things that, if there was nothing else in life, my life would still be okay if my golf balls were there. God, family, friends. The people in your life, essentially. The pebbles are the important things but are things you could live without. School, work, your house and car, etc. The sand is everything else. The minutia, if you will. Free time activities. The extras.

As we were discussing this, I had this realization that I have taken nearly all of my pebbles and turned them into golf balls while simultaneously making my golf balls into pebbles. I realized that if I let myself, I could probably continue allowing myself make golf balls of the things that should be pebbles. Because I let myself. I tell people that they come before school/work, but I don't live my life in a way that is consistent with that. Actions speak louder than words, and my actions are telling the people in my life that they are not as important as the things in my life.

Let me say that again.

My actions are telling the people in my life that they are not as important as the things in my life.

Whoa. Hard truth to swallow.

I think it's especially hard to swallow in the context of my last post, shortly after which I texted best friend to whine about it. He was pretty blunt, which is one of the things I love most about our friendship. He told me I was putting school first after God and that I didn't have time to put forth into a relationship. You would think he knows me well or something.

The thing is, he was wrong. Partly, at least. School isn't first after God. It has become my god. I realized it in the context of that conversation on Sunday morning, and I realized it again last night as I processed through the giant pebbles and miniature golf balls that are currently filling my life.

Change doesn't happen over night, and that's the thing. Change takes effort. Change isn't easy, but then again, nothing worth doing ever is. Change is often hard, and it often comes at a cost. And it's easier not to. It is so easy for me to live life with school as my god. For my job, husband, children to become my god.

I think this quote that I found at some point while reading for school (hah, irony) pretty much sums it up.

"We must learn from the past, but not hold on to it because it feels comfortable and because change is difficult." -Mark Kuranz

I don't want to wake up one morning and realize that my gods have kept me from knowing my God. I don't want to live a life in a way that my words, every single one of them, are a lie.

Me too

I know this is terrible, but I cannot help it. Every time somebody I know or am friends with gets engaged, I am always excited for them. Always. But there is also always a little part of me that is sad. Or jealous. Maybe both, I don't know. I guess jealous isn't the right word since jealousy is wanting something that belongs to you. Envious is probably the appropriate word. The thing is, this is normally the kind of thing I would talk to one of my friends about. The problem is, all but, literally, one of my friends is either in a relationship, engaged, or married. Well, maybe two, but the second is more of a past friend, and she is also the one whose engagement got broken off earlier in the year, so I would never talk to her about something like that anyway. Sometimes when I say literally, I actually mean figuratively, but no. This time I really do mean literally, although I guess it does depend slightly on how you define "friend." Maybe a better wording would be that of the friends I talk to on at least a monthly basis, all but one are either in a relationship, engaged, or married. Literally.

I just texted that one that is not so we could commiserate. She said she felt the exact same way. Shew, it isn't just me. Sister-in-law 3 (and actually sister-in-law 2 and brother 2 too, I think) are obsessed with Brené Brown who says something about the power of the words, "me too." Amen.

There is something so beautiful about having a variety of friends, because more likely than not each of them are able to say "me too" about something different.

Being in grad school is easily both the hardest thing and the best thing I have ever done, and a large part of that is because of the people that are in my life now that can say, often when I need it the most, "me too."

Anyway, single friend and I were also talking about how we felt guilty because sometimes when people got in a relationship/engaged/married, we wondered how that could possibly happen and then we felt guilty for wondering that and how they could be in a relationship/engaged/married when we weren't. I thought I was the only one that thought that. Until she basically said, "me too."

Seven

Seven minutes. That is all I get. I can't seem to concentrate but I have about a million things I need to do before I go to bed and get up super early in the morning. So I am letting myself write. More often than not, writing helps me get to where I need to be focus wise, so I am helping that seven minutes will do the trick.

Ever since I got lice last week, I have not been able to keep up with everything. I mean, I lost an entire day of productivity. This evening, I need to determine a course of action for several of the students I am working with. I am totally clueless on where to go with them. Maybe not totally clueless. More like just clueless. It isn't good, though.

This afternoon, I went to the dollar store to see if I could find a bandana because apparently tomorrow is western day at the school I am at and I am supposed to participate, which is fine, I just don't really own any western clothing. I have a plaid shirt. That's about it. Anyway, while I was there, I found a bag of microwaveable pork rinds. I about gagged. It looked like a bag of popcorn except it was pork rinds. So, so, SO gross. Really not acceptable in the least. Guess that's what I get for going to a dollar store. The other day when I was in there getting shower caps to wear at night to (hopefully) keep my hair contained, I found some animal placenta conditioner. Again, so, so, SO gross.

I have a test tomorrow evening and I am also responsible for leading the group in class, which I am hopefully ready for. I need to look over the plan my classmate that I am doing it with and I came up with. I really probably need to look through my planner to see what else I have coming up in the next few weeks. I know I have a paper due in about two weeks that I haven't gotten started on yet. Oops. I probably should do that. I also know I have several other projects that I need to get started on or I am going to regret it later.

Okay, need to stop thinking about school. It is stressing me out.

Best friend is planning to propose to his girlfriend in less than a month, which is exciting. And kind of crazy. I can't imagine being married right now. At the same time, though, I feel like I am ready to be. It is hard not to wonder when in the world I am going to meet the guy I am going to marry. Or I guess hard not to wonder if I am going to meet him.

My seven minutes is up. Back to reality.

Lice

Yep, the title says it all.

This girl made it almost 24 years without having lice. That all changed yesterday. Well actually, it changed earlier in the week. It was 50% denial, 50% it is difficult to search yourself for lice. After about having a panic attack yesterday because I had lice, had issues with the community washer in my apartment building, and was freaking out about having to cut my hair (that I have been growing for YEARS to donate).

I convinced my mom to drive down today to help me. I'm glad she did. We did loads (and loads) of laundry. Cha-ching. Three dollars/load (to wash and dry) times six (I think) loads adds up. Plus the treatment and the ice cream that was a required purchase to keep me from totally having a melt down last night. I actually have yet to open it. Ice cream is my comfort food. I just need for it to be there.

After we got some laundry going, I washed my hair with the lovely lice shampoo, and then we spent two and a half hours combing nits out. I will never think of the word "nitpicking" in the same way ever again. Ever. After that, I showered (again), and we celebrated by going to Moe's for free queso day. Then we stopped by Target to get a blow dryer. I am not one to blow dry my hair, but heat kills those things, so if blow drying my hair will help do the job, I will deal with it. I would rather spend time every day blow drying for the next month than have to deal with this process again in a month. I have not done one single thing related to school today. I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR LICE. Anyway, after Moe's and Target, we went to get froyo. Like I said, ice cream is my comfort food. And yes, I know frozen yogurt is not the same as ice cream. It is close enough and I don't discriminate amongst frozen dairy desserts, thankyouverymuch.

This evening, I have been looking up some other alternatives. I currently have apple cider vinegar in my hair and will put some coconut oil and tea tree oil in my hair once this dries, put it in a shower cap, and sleep with it. I am sure it will be a lovely mess in the morning.

I should also mention that I slept on the kitchen floor last night because I didn't want to remake my bed and then have to wash everything again this morning. I also had (and still do have) my pillow in an air tight garbage bag and intend to change the pillow case daily for the next little bit. Needless to say, I didn't exactly sleep well.

I guess it is time to go work on some school stuff before putting coconut oil in my hair and going to bed since I will have to get up early since my morning routine will be a bit more lengthy tomorrow.

What a day

Shew, it has been a long day. Says the girl who has been up for 17 hours as she types this, and has been away from home for about 14 of those. That being said, even though today has been long, it has also been really good.

I spent my day at "my" school again today. Got to actually meet with a few students! It was nerve wracking, but also really exciting.

In class this evening, we spent probably 75% of the time figuring out a schedule for when we are going to be going to a local elementary school to do some stuff there. It was crazy.

After class we went to Chili's. Of course.

Before class, I was browsing Facebook, which was totally what I should have been spending my time doing, hah.

Anyway, one of my friends posted something along the lines of seven things to think about if you are single and don't want to be. Article here. Hey, that is me! Well, partially me. I am fine with my single-ness, I just don't want it to last forever.

The article was mostly talking about how we can't look for humans to satisfy our needs because God has to do that and how just because you have a desire for something doesn't necessarily mean God will fulfill that desire. That one is always hard for me to face. I have had people tell me the opposite (that God wouldn't have given me the desire to get married if he didn't intend to fulfill it eventually). Even though I knew that wasn't biblical, it's nice to hope for. Or something like that.

The one that really got me was this: "Some people are single and God's grace is sufficient for them. Some people are single because God is gracious to others." I don't know why, but that hit me like a ton of bricks (which I totally just typed brucks. Couldn't be because I am tired or anything). The author also talks about having friends in your life that will be honest and tell you if you are the type who is single because God is gracious to others and that those friends will be honest enough to tell you where those areas of your life are. As I was reading it, my first thought was, "yes, I have those friends." Part of it was knowing yourself well and knowing where those crap areas of your life are. I have a few I am aware of. My friends that have known me for a long time know and would tell you (because they tell me when I bring it up) how much better I am about things. Getting worked up over the little things is one of them. Not being willing to try anything new (anything might be a stretch, but still) is another one. I'm pretty sure when you work with children in the way I am going to be working with them for the next, oh, 35-40 years, you have to get over the not being willing to try new things thing. Perhaps I should ask a few of my friends. Definitely something to think about.

Preferably ones that won't tell me just to be patient and that it will happen.

Okay, enough rambling. That only took me, oh forty minutes. This girl has got to go to bed, but oh what a day it has been!

(un)forgiveness

I have a song on computer called "Pray for You." It is meant to be ironic. I laughed the first time I heard it even though it is totally inappropriate.

"I haven't been to church
Since I don't remember when.
Things were going great
'Till they fell apart again.
So I listened to the preacher
As he told me what to do.
He said you can't go hating others
Who have done wrong to you.
Sometimes we get angry
But we must not condemn.
Let the good Lord do His job,
You just pray for them.

I pray your breaks go out running down a hill,
I pray a flower pot falls from a window sill,
And knocks you in the head like I'd like to.
I pray your birthday comes and nobody calls,
I pray you're flying high when your engine stalls,
I pray all your dreams never come true.
Just know wherever you are, honey, I pray for you.

I'm really glad I found my way to church
'Cause I'm already feeling better,
And I thank God for the words.
Yeah, I'm going to take the high road
And do what the preacher told me to do.
You keep messing up, and I'll keep praying for you.

I pray your tire blows out at 110.
I pray you pass out drunk with your best friend,
And wake up with his and her tattoos.

I pray your breaks go out running down a hill,

I pray a flower pot falls from a window sill,
And knocks you in the head like I'd like to.


I pray your birthday comes and nobody calls,
I pray you're flying high when your engine stalls,
I pray all your dreams never come true.
Just know wherever you are, near or far,
In your house or in your car,
Wherever you are, honey, I pray for you.
I pray for you."

Probably two weeks after the first time I heard it (several years ago), I was in church on a Sunday morning and the preacher started his sermon by reading the words of this song. He then preached a sermon on unforgiveness. Unforgiveness is, without a doubt, one of my biggest struggles. That isn't to say there aren't a million other sins I struggle with because there are, but unforgiveness seems to take over my life at times. Like, oh, right now.

There is one person in my life with whom unforgiveness is a continual issue. Usually because I don't think this person deserves my forgiveness. And maybe they don't. That isn't the point, though. I am just as undeserving of forgiveness, but that hasn't ever stopped God from giving it to me. I'm not sure if this person realizes the ways that his actions have hurt me. Or, truthfully, if he even cares. If the responses I know he has given other people who have confronted him about similar situations are any indication, he couldn't give a rodent's back half. So if he doesn't care, or even if he does, his pride is bigger than his concern, so he would never ask for forgiveness, which perpetuates my unforgiveness.

As I have processed through that this afternoon as I listened to Pray for You, I can't help but think about the irony of it. How often do I, through my actions, tell God that I don't give the back half of a rat about my actions? How often do I choose not to ask for forgiveness because I don't think I have done anything that needs to be forgiven?

This morning on my way to church, I caught myself in a horrible, terrible, embarrassing thought.

It would be easier not to be a Christian. Maybe there isn't anything wrong with that thought in and of itself. The place where it becomes a problem is when I get to the point where I wish I wasn't a Christian so that my life would be easier. There is no doubt in my mind that that is not okay. It isn't. That thought is wrong on so many levels.

One of the things I have realized over the last few weeks is how many things I try to hide from myself. It's easier. Safer. Part of why I dwell in unforgiveness. Actually completely forgiving this person would probably involve talking about various things with this person, which I am not mentally, psychologically, or spiritually prepared for. So I pretend like it isn't there.

Growth

I am so in over my head. This semester is going to be absolutely crazy, which I think I say at the beginning of every semester, and I have yet to not make it through one. That being said, I am not sure that I am mentally prepared for this semester. I started my practicum on Monday. I think I am really going to like it. My site supervisor said the next time I was there, I would be set up with actual people. Kind of scary! When I was there this week, I basically just watched her do her job and helped her with some paper work and computer work type stuff. I am excited to get going, though.

I have my group counseling class on Monday nights. We do the typical class thing for the first hour or so and then have an actual group the second hour or hour and a half. This week we were doing goals, basically. At the end we have a closing question. This week it was, "I take responsibility for ___." I said that I take responsibility for the things I do to my body. Several other things came to mind first, but she said to keep in mind what our goals had been (mine is to run a 5k by the end of the semester), so that one seemed appropriate. It also seemed appropriate given the fact that I look like a person who does not take care of her body. That isn't necessarily untrue, but it is less true than it used to be if that makes sense. As in I have not always taken care of my body, and while I am not perfect at it now, I am better than I used to be. Saying that sentence was kind of profound for me, actually. I hadn't ever really thought about it in that way.

On Monday, I ran eight minutes without stopping. I only ran 5/8 of a mile in that period of time, but I'm not complaining. That is by far the furthest I have run at one time since high school. I wasn't able to run my second eight minutes because my legs were telling me no, which I know sounds weird. It wasn't that they were tired from already walking and running and I just didn't want to. It was that I could tell if I ran eight more minutes (well actually seven, I did run the first minute) that I was going to put too much strain on them. Normally I would have gone this evening after class, but I did something else tonight instead, so I will go tomorrow.

The thing I did tonight was something I had been wanting to do for a while now, which was go to the singles group the church I have been going to has. I ended up meeting somebody that used to work with brother 2 at a church in a city 400 miles from here. So weird.

I have a lot of expectations for what my life is going to look like for the next three and a half months. I know that they, like the last 12 months, will be hard, but I also know that hard is often also good. Hard promotes growth, and growth is good. Even when, or perhaps especially when, it hurts.

It will happen

If you have ever been single for any length of time, no doubt you have had this experience.

"He will come along when you least expect it."
"Don't focus on it and it will happen."
"Work on yourself and everything will work out."

I know people are well meaning, I do, but let me make one thing abundantly clear.

It.

Doesn't.

Help.

Heck, I'm not even in a place where I think I could be in a relationship. I'm definitely not pursuing anything. For me, faith in God includes trusting that His timing is perfect. So might he come when I least expect it? Perhaps. Or he might come tomorrow. Or not at all. And that is okay. When I, inevitably, whine about being single (which I truthfully don't do often mostly because people respond with things like that), it's okay not to say anything. Or if you do choose to say something, tell me that it is normal to feel whatever way I say I am feeling about being single at that point in time. If you feel led and if it is true, tell me you are praying for me. If you are older than me and didn't get married in life until later and/or had an extended period of singleness, it is okay for you to tell me you understand or that you get it. But if you are my age (or younger, for crying out loud) and in a relationship or married, for the love of peanut butter, don't feed me some line and act like you have any idea what you're talking about.

Perspective

The first half of this entire entry was me whining about something I should be grateful for, so I deleted it and am starting over. I started another blog several years ago, and the entire premise of it was being thankful for things. Of putting things into perspective, because I found that 99% of the time, if you can put things into perspective, they never look as bad.

My semester starts tomorrow. It is going to be a beast, I have no doubt about it. I keep telling myself it can't possibly be worse than this summer, but as I told one of my (grad school) friends, I think I am lying to myself. Luckily one of my friends is taking the same three classes as me (well two classes plus the class we have to take for our placement), so hopefully that will help. My other two classes are with the professor everybody agrees is the hardest.

There was a short period of time I wanted to be a pediatric oncologist, so this semester in the midst of wanting to die, hopefully I will be able to put it into perspective and remind myself that it could be worse if I was in med school.

All over the place

Shew. I can't believe it, but school starts back in three days. How can it possibly be? My 13 day break has not lasted long enough.

Last weekend, I got to spend some time with a few family members, which was fun. The saying about fish and company going bad after three days is definitely true, though. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, and it is different with my siblings/parents (for the most part), but this was extended family. My favorite part of the trip was that we went tubing down the creek about a mile away from where we stayed. Thank goodness it was last weekend and not this weekend. I think it has just barely hit 70 where we were. Heck, it has just barely hit 70 where I am, which is not typical for mid-August. I don't even know if it has gotten above 85 this week. When you live in a city that routinely sees 90+ degree days in August, a high in the low 70's for multiple days in a row is weird. August is evidently having an identity crisis and has forgotten that this is the south. Not that I am complaining. I love this kind of weather. I love fall. Seventy-something degree days mean that fall is on its way.

Also, this really, REALLY weird thing has happened. When I moved away (a year ago on Sunday!) from the city in which I spent my childhood and adolescent years, I also moved away from a college town that has a rather large and well known football program. Up until then, I hated football. It was everywhere. It was impossible to escape. I hated it. Now that I live two hours away from the madness where people aren't quite as football crazed, there is something about football that gets me a little bit excited. Part of it, too, is that there are people here that are fans of other football teams and I feel like I have to represent my home town, at least a little bit. Part of it started a few years ago, too, when I started watching Friday Night Lights. Such a great show. I brought all five seasons of it back with me when I left my parent's house earlier in the week. That might not have been a good idea because I will want to watch them, but eh.

On Wednesday, I had a knock on my door at about 4:00. "What in the world?" I thought to myself. I had ordered two books the previous week for school, but they had both already arrived. There wasn't a note on my door from my apartment management that they were going to be doing anything. I hadn't reported anything that needed to be fixed. I was still in my pajamas, so I hesitated (when you work from home, why would you not still be in your pajamas at 4:00?). I looked out my peephole, but nobody was there. So I looked out the glass door in my living room. UPS truck. "That's odd, my books are already here. Did I order something I forgot about?" I opened the door, and there was a box sitting there. With tape that had the Godiva label on it. Again, "what in the world?" I opened the box trying to figure out who in the WORLD would send me chocolate. I don't have a boyfriend, my birthday is over a month away, I just saw my mom (who would send a gift card over chocolate), and my grandma gave me a little somethin' somethin' when I saw her at the 4th of July. Plus, she wouldn't waste money on the shipping anyway I don't think. I open the box. Which contained a styrofoam cooler. The styrofoam cooler contained two ice packs, and a box of chocolates wrapped in two plastic bags. In one of the bags, there was a card! I frantically quickly opened it and saw that it was a gift from a man that uses my company's services. It totally made my day. I also want to take this moment to declare how proud of myself I am because that box, two days later, still has all but one of the chocolates it came with. Of course, it's not every day I get a box of Godiva chocolates. But oh man, that one chocolate I had was gooooood.

I spent most of my afternoon out shopping. I figured it was my last chance to do that for who knows how long. I got a pair of dress pants, three tops (one of which I am taking back because it was cheaper online *eye roll*), and a dress. Hopefully that, along with the clothes I have in my closet, will provide enough combinations since I start my first placement a week from Monday! I am both excited and nervous about it. I really like my on site supervisor, though, and am looking forward to working with her. And just looking forward to doing what I am (hopefully) going to spend the next 30-something (or more) years of my life doing.

My couch to 5K training is going well, I think. I ran five minutes without stopping yesterday during my training. Twice. That is probably the longest I have run since my age ended with "teen."

There is something about Fridays that makes me desperately want pizza for dinner. I'm not sure why. I know we had pizza for dinner sometimes growing up, and I know sometimes it happened on Fridays, but I know it happened on other days of the week as well. Of course, it could also have something to do with the fact that pretty much the only thing I could make to eat right now is a smoothie, a pb&j, or pb&banana. I guess at some point in my life, I could/should do some legitimate grocery shopping so I can actually cook. Not that I will have time for that after this weekend anyway.

I am contemplating looking for a new job. I don't love the one I have now. I actually never liked it, it was just a job and it is convenient, but I am only getting about half the hours I want because my schedule is so much different than what it has been, even though I am still completely available three days a week and partially available two others. And we are closed Sundays. Whatevs. I would like to do something more related to my future anyway.

Okay, that is all. For now. So all over the place. Kind of like my life right now.

To the lady I flipped off

Dear lady I flipped off earlier,

First of all, I am sorry I flipped you off. I know better and should not have done it, no matter how rude you were being. I should have ignored it and gone about my business as usual.

However, that being said, I need to point out a few things to you.

First of all, I drive a mid-size car. You drive a mid-size SUV. I am sure you are aware of that. Or at least aware of the fact that you drive a mid-size SUV. When somebody in a car is in a median trying to merge into traffic and an SUV pulls up behind said car in the median, it is incredibly difficult to see around said SUV.

Yes, I was on my phone, but that was not why I was not going. The reason I was not going was because that there were cars coming in the right lane and I could not see the left lane far enough to see if anyone was coming because you, dear SUV driver, pulled up behind me and blocked my view. Honking at me to go was not necessary. I would have gone once the right lane cleared out, which it did about three seconds later. After I flipped you off, which again, I am sorry about, there was no need to roll down your window and yell at me to get off the phone. I would not have gone even if I was not on my phone.

Also, please let me remind you that talking on the phone while driving is not illegal in this state. Texting while driving is, which is precisely what you were doing when we were stopped at the traffic light a quarter of a mile down the road. Either that or you were taking a picture of my license plate. I don't think there are laws about that, although I'm sure it is frowned upon.

Again, I do apologize for flipping you off, but I'm pretty sure it would have been better to wait three seconds for the right lane to clear than for me to have turned into the left lane where I could not see if a car was coming and get hit by an oncoming car. You would have been delayed by a hell of a lot more than three seconds.

Sincerely,
Sarah

Make me laugh

I totally should be studying for the final I have tonight, but as far as school goes, I have taken a Liz Danes (from Gilmore Girls) approach: come what may. I'm over it.

Anyway, I'm working this morning (last time for an entire week, WOO!) and was talking to a caller earlier when, all of the sudden, I hear this banging sound and a scream. I wasn't sure if she had fallen or if something in her home had fallen or what. I asked if she was okay. Yeah, she was fine. A hard boiled egg exploded. She said it sounded like a gun shot. She and I both got a good laugh out of that.

Sometimes I have callers that are total grumps or are just plain rude. Most of them are pleasant enough, but nothing out of the ordinary. When something happens that makes either the caller or myself laugh, it's a good call. Also, let me just say that if you are talking to a stranger on the phone and they say their name, keep it in mind and use it at the end of the conversation. Few things make me happier than when somebody who has called me says, "Thank you for your help, Sarah" or whatever. I try to do the same for them, "Have a great day, Jane Doe." And I certainly try to do it any time I am calling customer service, etc. I think it just comes back to my desire (and I assume most people have the same one) to be acknowledged.

But if you make me laugh, you get bonus points.

Same Thing

Earlier in the summer, one of my professors was talking about ridding ourselves of one-sided friendships. The relationships in which we are the friend but the "friend" isn't a friend to us. She said that people like us tend to get into those relationships because we feel like we can help or fix them in some way. It isn't necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, but as you move into the real world and have clients with whom relationships are supposed to be one-sided, the one-sided toxic "friendships" are the ones that will make you burn out. Fast.

I continually realize that I have one relationship that is one-sided. I forget, and then I put forth the most minimal amounts of effort and get nothing in return. Let me be honest and say that most of my friendships have minimal efforts put into them at the present moment. Relationships with my Chili's girls are easy, and relationships with old friends are what they have been. We talk occasionally. Text, call, facebook message, whatever. Even though that communication may occur less frequently than I would like for it to, it actually occurs. And when I try to get in touch with them, they respond. There is also this crazy thing that they do called initiating conversation sometimes. It's really a phenomenal thing. I don't know how they manage. Especially given how difficult of a person I am to talk to. I say that in all seriousness. I may not be easy to get along with 100% of the time, but I am not that hard to get along with. I'm pretty easy going, go with the flow. One of my old co-workers told me I was the least disliked person that worked at the daycare. I don't get worked up over things I shouldn't (usually), I'm generally nice, and I show genuine concern for people. Most of the time, at least.

I am legitimately not sure when the last time this person initiated a conversation was. Actually, that isn't true. I do know what it was and it was because they had a question for me, which doesn't exactly count.  This may make me a bad friend, but it is something I need to do for myself. I'm not saying I am "kicking" this person out of my life. What I am saying, though, is that I cannot continue putting forward the effort when they are not willing to put forth any effort in return. Is this person busy? Yeah, not any more so than I am. In fact, I could probably make the argument that they are less busy than I am. Regardless, you put forth the effort in the things that are important to you. At some point, I probably will, or at least should, confront this person. I haven't yet because I have no doubt in my mind that an excuse will be made. That is how this person lives life is by making excuses.

I don't want to do this. Even though it is exhausting and tiring to continue with this friendship the way it has been, I know it is not healthy to do so. I am reminding myself, for about the millionth time, that the right thing is rarely easy. In fact, most of the time the right thing and the hard thing are the same thing.

Idealizing

Lest I ever idealize my time taking summer classes in grad school, or just grad school in general, because I have no doubt that I will at some point, this is my reminder to my future self that grad school has been the hardest thing I have ever done. No doubt about it. Part of it, I think, is my fear of the unknown about what my job will look like because there is so much variability. Part of it, of course, is also my fear of finding a job. Well, of not finding one. There is also the constant state of exhaustion that makes everything more anxiety inducing and frustrating than necessary.

I need to be abundantly clear on this: I would never, ever, EVER do anything to intentionally end my life. Never. First and foremost, I wouldn't do that to the people in my life. Also, I don't have the guts to, but mostly, I couldn't do that to the people I love. Since the entire purpose of this blog is honesty, I would be lying if I didn't ever think it would be easier just to be dead. It's not really that I want to be dead or that I want to die, but sometimes the pressure of my life right now is overwhelming.

I have a sneaky suspicion that I am not alone in that feeling. It is probably more common than I am aware. People just don't talk about it because it is awkward, hard, and perhaps embarrassing.

Reminder to my readers (you know, the ones I do not have) that if you or someone you know is actively suicidal, stop what you are doing and call 911 immediately.

Part of our program is doing a wellness plan in some of our classes. I haven't been good about sticking to one when I don't have to, though, so I am trying to get back to that. One of the things I have been doing is trying to exercise more.

I think it started when I was having a terrible, no good, very bad day last Tuesday. On Thursday, this girl who hates running more than just about anything else started couch to 5k. I'm actually enjoying it so far. Of course, that is easy to say when I have only done it twice and because of the fact that the running that is happening right now is only in one minute increments. I have always been more of a swimmer. There was a period in time I probably could have swam a 5k. I couldn't anymore, not without stopping, at least. I can swim a mile without stopping, though. Or at least I could a few months ago. I'm weirdly excited to start running, though.

Actually, running is probably not the appropriate word for what I am doing. Calling it jogging would be generous.

Work this morning has been ridiculous. Only six more minutes until I get off. And it has been a whole six minutes since I had a call! Dang, I jinxed it, because literally right after I hit the space button after the "!" the phone rang.

In all seriousness, I need to eat lunch in two minutes when I get off, drink a large cup (or four) of coffee, and finish up a few things before class tonight.

Make the madness stop!

Grateful

On Tuesday in the midst of the worst days I have had in quite a while, I caught myself being unbelievably grateful for something. Grateful that the thing that, in some ways, I chose the thing that was causing so much pain and frustration.

I think I have written before about applying for the same type of program I am in at the university in the city I grew up in. Had I gotten in there, I probably would have gone there. I could have lived at home, and I had a job I loved. In that sense, it was a win win. In almost every other sense, it would have been a losing situation. I have said on multiple occasions how thankful I am not to have gotten into that program. I'm saying it again.

I am so thankful I did not get into that program.

There are several reasons behind that. First, the program I am in is a good one. Evidently one that the accrediting agency said should be modeled after. I'll take that. The second is that I love, love, love the girls I have gotten to know over the past 11 months of my life. One of our professors told us the first night in class that these people would be the ones to get you through because they were the ones that were there with you. I had no idea how right she would be. I am so thankful to be living life with them and commiserating with them as we move through our program together. The last one is that moving to a city where I knew (almost) no one has created ample opportunities for personal growth that would have never occurred had I stayed in the city I grew up in in which I grew up up in which I grew (because that doesn't sound awkward).

After that nonsense, I think it is appropriate to end with a fantastic Winston Churchill quote.

"Ending a sentence with a preposition is something up with which I will not put."

Run

The last time I had an actual desire to go running was over two and a half years ago when a friend totally and completely ditched me for a cheating ex. To say I was livid that day would be a massive understatement.

Without going into details about everything this day has entailed, I could pretty much sum up my day in six words:

I had the desire to run.

Waiting

I have mentioned multiple times recently, and just in general, waiting for the right guy to come along. Several years ago, one of my friends told me that I needed to put myself out there. That a guy wasn't just going to show up on my doorstep one day and say, "hey, do you want to get married?" She was (and is) right, and I knew it. For someone like me who doesn't like to put myself in uncomfortable situations and who is perfectly happy spending days by myself, it is much easier said than done. I have to get over it at some point, though. I am not sure what that is going to look like yet, but I know it needs to look like something. Descriptive, right?

I would really like to go to the singles group at my church. I am well aware that most of the people will be at least a little bit older than me, but the description says something about young, single professionals. I guess technically I am not a professional, but I sort of consider that anyone that is out of college, which I am. Sort of. I am out of undergrad. The problem: they meet on Wednesdays. Wednesday is Chili's day. Plus I am in class on Wednesdays until after 8:00, and it starts well before then.

I guess I just had this realization that I don't want to be in the same place I am now 10 years from now. Yes, I need to be patient. Yes, I need to trust in God's timing, but like my friend said, he isn't going to show up at my doorstep.

Eighteen

I am giving myself 18 minutes to write this entry. I am stopping exactly when they are up, even if that means I stop mid-sentence. Why 18 minutes? I don't really know. It just seemed like a good amount of time. It also means I have to write for the full 18 minutes. I am currently procrastinating on looking up several articles for a group presentation that I have on Wednesday that I have done almost no preparation for. That should be fun. And by fun I mean a total drag.

This evening, I got to do something I have been waiting to do since mid-March. I finally met best friend's girlfriend. She was lovely, as expected. Totally perfect for him. Almost disgustingly so. It was really weird because after they left, he texted me and said he was glad I finally got to meet the future Mrs. John Doe. It was weird to read those words. Mostly because his name isn't John Doe.

Yes, I am aware of how terrible that was.

In all seriousness, even though I have thought about it and even though I know he has proposal plans in the work for this fall, somehow meeting her made it seem that much more real. I don't know how to explain it other than that.

Changing topics entirely,

I have exactly 22 days until I am done with summer school. I cannot WAIT! Oh my goodness, it will be a glorious day. A glorious day, indeed. I'm going home the morning after I finish for a few days, then spending the weekend at my dad's childhood home with my mom, my aunt, my cousin, and my cousin's 12-year-old daughter. It's in a cute little town with lots of other cute little towns near by. Plus it is right by a creek that makes for some fantastic tubing.

Hopefully it will have stopped raining by then.

I mean, seriously. It has rained nearly every day for the past two weeks. And I'm not talking just a quick pop up thunderstorm in the afternoon, either. I mean, there have been a few of those, but we are talking pop up storms that come and go all day or showers that last through the day.

I think we have now had the rain fall that we normally have by the end of the year. It's crazy! Crazy, I tell you!

Okay, I am starting to think 18 minutes was too many because I am only ten minutes in. Hah, oops. Of course, when I am done, that means I have to get back to finding articles and putting together my section of the presentation. I would much rather just write.

The class I am taking right now is career counseling, so one of our assignments was to take some career inventories. It was interesting to see what my results were. It made me question what I am in school for a little bit. It's not that I don't still want to be a school counselor. Not at all. It just made me realize that there are other things I would like to do, or maybe prefer to do, given the chance. For example, if I could make a living on making crafts, I would do it in a heart beat. Wouldn't think about it for even a moment. I know it isn't realistic for about a hundred reasons, but it was a reminder that I need to allow myself time to spend being crafty and making crafts.

I don't think this was in there, but as I am writing this, and pretty much every time I allow myself to blog, I remember how much I love writing. I am not always the best person at carrying on a conversation. In fact when best friend went inside to get a milkshake when I was eating dinner with him and his girlfriend earlier, there was definitely a lull in conversation because I wasn't sure what to say. Writing, though. It's different. I love that, here especially, I can write whatever I want without the fear of anyone else seeing it. Not if I don't want them to, at least. I mean, I guess people can see it, it's people that I know that I don't want to see it. Perhaps that is odd, and maybe that defeats the purpose of the blog; to be honest. I guess going back to it, though, the purpose of this blog is, and always has been, for me. Not for anyone else.

More importantly, writing lets me get out what I need to say. The things I don't or won't say because of how they might be perceived or taken. There is just something so freeing about writing. Writing for no particular purpose. Free to discuss or say whatever I want. Free to avoid discussing other things if I choose to do so. It's beautiful. It makes me so grateful for high school friends I no longer talk to because they were the ones that got me started in journaling.

You know, ten years ago. Well, close to it. Probably more like nine-and-a-half. Still. It's pretty crazy. It is

July 12

Yesterday was July 12th. Well, duh, right? Last year on July 12th, I told myself that, if the circumstances remained the same, I would tell a certain person I loved him. Circumstances didn't stay the same and I don't still love him, not like that, but I was reading what I wrote, and it was kind of sweet.

It reminded me of a few things. God's redemption in that area of my life. The reminder that even though it often seems like I will never, and I do mean never, find the guy that is right for me, that God tailor made a man for me and I will find him when the time is right. Of course, it's hard not to want the right time to be right now.

Last night after reading for class and watching The Wedding Planner, I watched Dateline by myself. I don't recommend that. I kept hearing noises and thinking somebody was going to barge in my door. The episode wasn't even that creepy! Basically, the ex-husband was found guilty, although there is some question, but if it wasn't him it was one of the 10 or so men she had been having relations with that she met online.

I've never been married nor have I ever had relations with anyone nor have I ever met anyone in person that I met online other than people with whom I had mutual friends.

Best friend and his girlfriend are near(ish) me this weekend and are stopping for dinner on their way back home tomorrow. I'm so excited to get to see him and finally meet her. It is long overdue.

Done

I'm done. Beyond it, really.

Sometimes I think the sole purpose of summer school is to weed people out of the program. The constant level of stress cannot be healthy. I know there will be times in the real world that are stressful, especially when I factor in the fact that at some point I will (hopefully) have a family.

I don't even possess the words to explain what it feels like.

It's like knowing what you want to do, knowing you will be good at it, but not knowing if you will live to see the day when it comes to fruition because you might have a heart attack and/or a stroke before then because of the following factors:

1. Stress
2. Poor diet due to time constraints
3. Stress eating
4. Lack of exercise
5. Stress
6. Anxiety
7. Stress
8. Loss of sleep
9. Stress
10. Did I mention stress?

I'm done. I cannot keep doing this.

Compliments

I always forget how lovely it feels to be complimented. It makes me want to be more aware of other people and be someone who genuinely compliments.

Yesterday, I walked into class wearing a gray shirt, a yellow skirt, and had my aqua sunglasses sitting on top of my head. One of my classmates told me she loved my outfit and that I always had the cutest things.

After class, I stopped by the green grocery store to pick up spinach, yogurt, and a granola bar. Yes, that is literally exactly what I purchased. Exciting times, right? The lady ringing me up told me she loved my hair.

Let me pause here to tell you about my hair. I am not tall, but my hair reaches about halfway between the small of my back and the top of my butt. It's long. Really, really long. If I grab the end of my hair and extend it so it is perpendicular to my head, my arm is completely straight by the time I get to the end. That being said, it is a pain to do pretty much anything with. I'm not sure when the last time I wore it down was. Southern summers are hot and humid, so wearing long (relatively thick) hair to the mix is a no go. I would say I wear it in a side braid a good 90% of the time. The other 10% is either a bun or a ponytail. Anyway, last night I had twisted my hair all down the side and then put it into a braid. That's how I usually braid it. It just looks more finished and less sloppy.

I thanked her. She asked me if I heard that all the time. I said that sometimes people would comment on how long it was. Her response was, "it's just so silky!" It's true, I do have pretty shiny hair and it is naturally straight, which I think helps.

I don't say all this to toot my own horn that I have cute outfits (which is ironic, because I have been searching for more professional clothing since I start my field placements in a little over a month), and have shiny hair.

I say it to remind myself that even the simplest gestures often provide great meaning.

And also because I am procrastinating.

Expectation

Last week, I got to skype with my life long friend, N, for the first time since Christmas. One of the many, many, things I love about our friendship is that we are always able to pick up right where we left off. No awkwardness, no weird exchanges, just two people who have known each other for a life time. I guess it's deceptive to say a life time because it has only been about 15 years, but when you are 23, 15 years is pretty darn close.

We didn't talk about anything spectacular. We filled each other in on our crazy lives, talked about politics (she is basically the only person I will talk about politics with, even though we have slightly different views), and basically talked for an hour and a half about nothing in particular. It was amazing and beautiful and about a million other adjectives.

One of the things we talked about was writing, and she mentioned that she hadn't really written anything in over a year, at which point I mentioned that I had written about ten papers in the last two months, but I also brought up that I still write in a blog because it is so therapeutic to me. I also don't feel as guilty for writing as a means of procrastination because at least it is productive. At least compared to my other procrastination activities which are typically facebook stalking, playing mindless games, or watching a movie or an episode of The Wonder Years.

Side note: I am totally obsessed with that show. There is something in almost every single episode to which I can relate. I absolutely love the way the entire series is built entirely on grown up Kevin's recollections of his childhood and adolescence.

I'm not really sure what the point of this entry is. I don't think there is one. I just wanted to write (read, I have a chapter in my textbook that I am avoiding).

No, but really, I got home this afternoon from spending the weekend in my dad's childhood home. My grandma (mom's mom) and aunt (mom's sister) were there with us. My aunt is on the tail end of a nasty, NASTY divorce. Basically douche bag ex-uncle left her after 30-something years for a lady who has been married four times before. I'm sure that's going to go well. Not that I care, he has it coming to him. I just hope he doesn't try to come back when that new marriage/relationship doesn't work out.

Anyway, she has the division of the assets later in the month, which I know she is absolutely dreading. Not that I blame her. On Friday night, I heard her upstairs crying and talking to my mom after the two of them had gone to bed, and I felt so bad for her.

I can't imagine knowing and loving somebody for 30-something years only to have them walk away. And not just walk away, but do things to absolutely destroy you on their way out.

Don't get me wrong, I know what it is like to have somebody walk out of your life, but I am not naïve enough to think that is anywhere near the same thing. It's not even apples and oranges. It's probably closer to arugula and orangutans. And I know how hard that was for me and how angry I was about the whole situation, which is saying a lot because I don't get angry. In fact, that scenario was the last time I was angry, and that was 2.5 years ago.

I think the only words I really have are that my heart hurts for her, and it is a reminder that even though I am impatient about waiting for the right guy to come into my life, I know that God has timing that is better than my own, and He is gently reminding me that being married is not rainbows and butterflies, not that I didn't know that anyway, and that things may not always happen the way you expect.

Next thing on my procrastination list: A round of Candy Crush Saga.

Like an Avalanche

Beautiful God

Laying Your Majesty aside

You reached out in love to show me life

Lifted from darkness into light

Oh

King for a slave

Trading your righteousness for shame

Despite all my pride and foolish ways

Caught in your infinite embrace

Oh

And I find myself here on my knees again

Caught up grace like an avalanche

Nothing compares to this love, love, love

Burning in my heart

Savior and friend

Breathing Your life into my heart

Your Word is the lamp into my path

Forever I'm humbled by Your love

Oh

And I find myself here on my knees again

Caught up in grace like an avalanche

Nothing compares to this love, love, love

Burning in my heart

Take my life

Take all that I am

With all that I am

I will love you

Take my heart

Take all that I have

Jesus how I adore You

Take my life 

Take all that I am

With all that I am

I will love you

Take my heart

Take all that I have

Jesus how I adore You

And I find myself here on my knees again

Caught up in grace like an avalanche

Nothing compares to this love, love, love

I have been listening to this song [Like an Avalanche by Hillsong] a lot lately. I cannot seem to get it off my mind. What would it be like to actually be caught up in grace like an avalanche? The thing is, though, it isn't what if. I am caught up in grace like an avalanche, and in my own human nature am completely, totally, and utterly blind.

What if, when I sang along with the bridge, I actually meant it? What would it look like for me to legitimately ask God to take my life, take all that I am.

If I am honest, the thought of that is terrifying. I am a control freak and the idea of letting anything in my life go, let alone my whole life, seems not only crazy, but impossible.

Then I think about this: What have I given my life up for? School, for starters. I almost entirely gave up the life I had in the city I grew up in for school. It wasn't easy all of the time, but it wasn't hard to do either. I knew that moving and going to grad school would be good for me in the long run. It has been. The last 10 months of my life have not always been easy, but I have never doubted that this is where I am supposed to be, so I am not really sure why I constantly, day in and day out, doubt give up my life for the One who made me. The One who knows me and loves me. Why is something that should be so simple so incredibly hard?

Acknowledged

Sometimes it seems like I write the same things over and over again on here. It isn't my intention to do so, and considering the fact that nobody reads this, I don't think it really matters. This is probably going to be a little bit all over the place. Again, not that it matters.

Two years ago, all of my friends and acquaintances were getting engaged. And I do mean all. In 2011, I think there were approximately 35 engagements. Six of those happened in a two week period in March and four were in a 10 day period in July. So that was fun. And by fun, what I actually mean is that it was hard because even though I was happy for each and every one of those couples, it was a constant reminder that I was not anywhere near that point. A reminder that I hadn't ever even had a boyfriend.

Fast forward two years. It is now my friends/acquaintances younger siblings starting to get engaged and married and people my own age are having babies. On purpose. That's when you really know you are getting old. And again, it is hard. In a different way. I am happy with where I am, don't get me wrong. I want to finish school before I get married anyway, although at this point that isn't going to be an issue sine I will be done in under 18 months (WOOHOO!) and cannot imagine dating/being engaged to someone for less than that, especially if it isn't somebody I already know. At least not at this point in my life. I think as I get older that time period will decrease.

I will probably lose it when I have a niece or nephew on the way, even though my siblings are all older than me. I constantly try to remind myself that brother 2 didn't meet sister-in-law 2 until he was 28 and she was 25 and that they didn't get married until 30 and 27, respectively. I try to remind myself that engagements are not sure things. At least three of those 35 I mentioned broke it off before getting married. One of my friends from high school that I bumped into at church a few months back was engaged to a guy who broke it off three weeks before the wedding. My heart still hurts for her. And then I remember things like the fact that best friend is planning to propose to his girlfriend in October and that, literally, all but one of my friends are either married or in a relationship.

Sometimes I wonder if I am too picky about what I want. Not that it has mattered because there hasn't been a guy in a long, long time that has been remotely interested. At least not that I have been aware of.

This afternoon I was out running errands and had planned to eat lunch at Moe's, but when I got there it was super crowded. There were probably 15 people in line in front of me, and this particular location is not very fast, so I turned around and walked out, ran some more errands, and came back. It was pretty empty by that point. There was only one guy behind the counter and nobody else was in line behind me, so we talked while he made my burrito. It was kind of weird for several reasons, although not for the reasons one might think.

I'm a big girl. And by that what I actually mean is that I am fat. I didn't realize until a conversation we had in class a few weeks ago that (a) conversations like the one he and I had are common for most girls and (b) that people treat fat people differently. I have always been fat so I have never had anything to compare it to. The thought just hasn't crossed my mind. Anyway, Moe's guy wasn't flirting with me, or at least I don't think he was, he was just being really friendly, and it was weird because I'm not used to that. It could be the fact that I asked him how his day was going after he asked me about mine, something I'm sure most people don't do. Or the fact that I empathized when he told me that he was working with all the lazy people. Another guy came out of the back to ring me up, and as I was about to pick up my bag and water cup, the first guy looked at me and told me to have a nice day even though he was at the other end of the counter. I guess it just felt good to be acknowledged.

Faith

The other day, I got into my car to head to class. I turned my key in the ignition, and the radio turned on. The song Cinderella was playing, and I felt tears start to well up in my eyes just a little bit. It was weird. I have heard the song before. Multiple times. I have always thought it was sweet, but it got to me for whatever reason.

A few minutes after it ended, there was this huge pang in my gut. I don't know how to explain it. Almost a gut wrenching pain to have a child. It was weird. I have always wanted children, but I have never had anything like that happen before.

Something I have been struggling with lately for a while is that it often seems like I will not ever meet the guy that is right for me. God keeps reminding me that faith in Him includes faith in His timing.

Easier said than done, God, but I appreciate the reminders.

One of my youth leaders in high school told me that God would not have put that desire in my heart if He did not intend to fulfill it. I am well aware that He may not fulfill it in the way I anticipate, which is a little bit nerve wracking.

Flawed system

Last night after giving a rocking presentation on counseling Middle Eastern Americans and spending a few hours at Chili's (because, duh, it was Wednesday!), I stopped by the grocery store on the way home to pick up lemon flavoring, butter flavoring, and vanilla-butter-nut flavoring so I can make a pound cake this weekend for class on Monday. In front of me in the checkout line was a middle-aged man who was making a small purchase. A bag of M&M's (the kind that is found on the candy row; not the kind that is found by the cash registers), a 2 liter of orange soda, a 1 liter of Mountain Dew, and a box of saltine crackers. Interesting purchase, but the same could be said about pretty much any trip I take to the grocery store. Of course he proceeded to pay with his EBT card. My blood pressure probably went up a little bit.

Here's the thing. I don't have any problem with people who legitimately need food stamps being on them for a short period of time until they are able to get back on their feet. Really, I'm not placing my anger or frustration on this man. I can't even begin to claim to understand or know him or his situation. What I am placing my frustration and anger on is the system. Why is it, American Government, that EBT cards can be used to purchase soft drinks? You know how much nutritional value soft drinks have? None. In fact, I could probably make the argument that they have negative nutritional value because of what they do to your body. The same goes for M&Ms. Saltines aren't very nutritional, either, although I don't have as much of a problem with them as with the other three items.

American Government, would you like to know the last time I purchased any of those products? With my own money, no less? Well let me see, the last time I purchased a soft drink from a grocery store was in February when I had an ear infection and needed some lemon lime soda. Although, come to think of it, it is still sitting in my refrigerator unopened. You want to know why? Because lemon lime soda is a nutritionally void comfort food. I'm not claiming that I never eat nutritionally void foods. I do. That isn't the point. The point is, if you are going to provide assistance in purchasing food for people who need that assistance, at least make sure they are purchasing oh, I don't know, ACTUAL FOOD!

Get it together, government. Hah, like that will ever happen.

The Father's Day post that you won't see on Facebook

Father's Day is not one of my favorite days. This one hasn't been any different.

I love my dad, don't get me wrong, but if I'm being honest (which is the whole point of this blog), my dad was (and is) emotionally uninvolved in my life. Even though my parents are married, there were many times growing up when he was not physically present because he had to travel a lot, and the times he was physically present, he was almost always emotionally absent.

He saw it as his responsibility to provide for our family. To him that meant provide financially, which he did. We were not rich by any means, but I have always had enough and at least a little bit more. I am grateful to him for that, no doubt. However, providing financially often came at the exchange of providing for us emotionally. Not even just providing emotionally, but just being involved in our day to day life. Truly, growing up, the most involvement I had with my dad was at dinner when he, on good days, would ask us what we had learned that day. On the bad days, of which there were many because of headache issues that plague many of my family members, dinner was eaten in silence. I know there were a few times when he would practice baseball with me, and I think I remember him playing in the snow with us once when I was about six. I know he came to a few music/dance/choir/etc. concerts over the years as well, but he missed far more than he attended.

I think I may have written about it before, but I swam growing up. Summer league from the time I was 8 until I graduated high school and high school league in, well, high school. Most school years, I would do some sort of swim lesson/practice type thing to keep up for the summers. Essentially, I swam nearly year round for 10 years of my life. In that time, I would venture to say I had around 100 swim meets and probably 800 swim practices. Those are rough estimates, but that is not particularly important. The important thing is the point I am about to make. Of those approximately 100 swim meets, you know how many my dad attended? Zero. I could probably count on my fingers and toes the number of swim practices he took me to in that ten year period. Granted, for the last two years, I took myself to most of them since I could drive.

My mom would ask occasionally if I wanted for him to come to my (insert name of activity). I would always say it didn't matter. At the time, perhaps it didn't. I'm not sure. I think it was more that I didn't want him to feel obligated to come and I didn't want to put my mom in a weird position of feeling guilty that my dad wasn't there if I wanted him to be.

Looking back, it would be an understatement to say that I resent that he wasn't there. I don't resent that he wasn't at every single event. Of course not! My mom wasn't either, especially as I got older. He legitimately was out of town a lot; coming to every event wouldn't have been possible. The fact, though, that he showed very little concern in my life for a large portion of it is something that still affects me. And it sucks.

We could also discuss the birthdays he missed because he was out of town. Sometimes it was beyond his control. Other times it was not. I can think of two for sure that he missed, although I couldn't tell you what years they were or what happened. I just know they occurred. The sad thing is, my child or adolescent self didn't give a damn. In fact, I often preferred it when my dad was gone. The house was less tense and I didn't have to tip-toe around. The adult version of myself feels guilty about that. That also sucks.

I recall one specific time when I was in elementary school, probably. My dad was going out of town and had been in a particularly bad mood all morning. I think brother 3 and I had gotten in trouble for something. We weren't bad kids, so it was probably something like we kept getting in the way or were playing too loudly. You know, things kids do because they are kids. Not things kids do to be a pain in the ass, which was probably what he was acting like. The memory of me climbing up the stairs, entering brother 3's room and telling him that dad was gone is etched into my mind. Also etched is his response. "Yes!," along with a fist pump.

Looking back, I realize that is not normal. I was confused by the fact that my friends were often sad when one of their parents went out of town and excited to see them again. That isn't to say I wasn't excited to see him when he came back. I was. Some of the time, at least.

I guess mostly, when I look back, I am sad for the relationship I missed out on. Not because of anything I did, but because my dad chose not to invest in my life in any meaningful way.

The guilt of that relationship, or lack thereof, weighs heavy on my shoulders.

Especially on days like today.