So I ha ve officially branched out ofthe proverbial box that is single-blogdom and made two new blogs. (Both of which you can find the links for in my blogger profile)
One of the newer blogs, Merciful and Mighty, is taking shape on it;'s own, in 125 words or less a day. it will end up being a fictional story about one girl in an interesting relationship with her significant other and God. FUN FUN
The other one: HELP! i MARRIED A CONTRACTOR! Is all about my new life with Mr. Bunny. it will sort of be a compilation of tips for new brides, housewives and just generally a list of cool and not-so-cool things about marriage.
I hope everyone who reads this one and hates it, loves it or feels indifferent will atleast try one of my other flavors. I am trying so hard to worm my way mercilessly into your hearts...
..I know, I'm a sneaky sneaky lil wench....
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Miss. Locquacious and I have had a long running first question for any 20 questions game we endeavor to begin: What type of Peanut Butter do you like; Crunchy or Creamy?
We have asked tens of people that question and matched it to their personality with intent to measure their personality accordingly. It has never worked. mostly because we can't decide what either answer amounts to. but i have found a way to solve this dilema.
"How do you take your Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches:
A) With the peanut butter on one side and the Jely on the other
B) With both condiments on one side"
Either answer, however, equates to the same personality trait.
COMPLETE INSANITY.
If you have to care about how someone makes your peanut butter and Jelly sandwich (and i am talking about someone making it for you, not you personally making it for yourself) then you are without a doubt clinically insane. there is something wrong with the ticker of a person who has to ask "How did you make this PB&J?" Or worse still, upon the site of you slathering your PB&J together "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?"
Just a simple thought for today's lucky reader.
We have asked tens of people that question and matched it to their personality with intent to measure their personality accordingly. It has never worked. mostly because we can't decide what either answer amounts to. but i have found a way to solve this dilema.
"How do you take your Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches:
A) With the peanut butter on one side and the Jely on the other
B) With both condiments on one side"
Either answer, however, equates to the same personality trait.
COMPLETE INSANITY.
If you have to care about how someone makes your peanut butter and Jelly sandwich (and i am talking about someone making it for you, not you personally making it for yourself) then you are without a doubt clinically insane. there is something wrong with the ticker of a person who has to ask "How did you make this PB&J?" Or worse still, upon the site of you slathering your PB&J together "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?"
Just a simple thought for today's lucky reader.
I set out on a narrow way many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you
Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
I think about the years I spent just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true
Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
Now I'm just rolling home
Into my lover's arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you.
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you
Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
I think about the years I spent just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true
Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
Now I'm just rolling home
Into my lover's arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Every now and then, sometimes sleeping in his arms, sometimes washing his clothes, sometimes hearing his voice from acorssthe room... sometimes I think to myself: I am married. I am a married woman. I have married the most handsome, sweet, daring, dashing, real-life Prince Charming I could have ever found.
A peace which passeth all understanding washes over me and I find that I have what I need all right here, and it is all mine for the rest of my life.
A peace which passeth all understanding washes over me and I find that I have what I need all right here, and it is all mine for the rest of my life.
Monday, May 15, 2006
IF I NEVER:
If I never moved to White Marsh,
I would have never been in a different school district.
If I never got rejected to Carver,
I would have never gone to Overlea.
If I never applied myself in school,
I would have never gotten into GT classes in tenth grade.
If I never met Mr. Hampster,
I would have never gone to New Day Baptist.
If I never met Mr. Movie,
I would have never met Mr. Bunny.
And I would have never lived happily ever after...
If I never moved to White Marsh,
I would have never been in a different school district.
If I never got rejected to Carver,
I would have never gone to Overlea.
If I never applied myself in school,
I would have never gotten into GT classes in tenth grade.
If I never met Mr. Hampster,
I would have never gone to New Day Baptist.
If I never met Mr. Movie,
I would have never met Mr. Bunny.
And I would have never lived happily ever after...
Thursday, May 11, 2006
wow this month has certainly been a ride, if nothing else... or if everything else.
Tomorrow is Friday and Saturday I am getting married. MARRIED. As in "do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Married as in "Hon, how long have we been married? 74 years?" married. As in the rest of my life.
Someone has just taught me that I shouldn't think of this as the beginging of my life. And this thought has brought to my mind a new revalation if you will. that thought...
My life has been really interesting. I was raised so differently than many people might assume upon meeting me. But to me it was so normal. I had insomnia when I was 10 until I was 16 because I was so used to sleeping in my mom's bed. I am homesick for Oahu. My little tender heart was crushed when my brother told me he wouldn't give me away at my wedding. I dropped eveyrthing (which wasn't much but a retail job and a handful of deliquient friends) to go 250 miles away and "gamble" the rest of my life away.
And now I am continuing my life with a whole new person. In a whole new place. With a whole new perspective on life. I am becoming someone's wife. not someone's charge. Not someone's "buddy." I am becoming one with another person that compared to how well I know myself, I have no concept of how to honor and cherish as well and as fully as I should.
Tomorrow is Friday and Saturday I am getting married. MARRIED. As in "do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Married as in "Hon, how long have we been married? 74 years?" married. As in the rest of my life.
Someone has just taught me that I shouldn't think of this as the beginging of my life. And this thought has brought to my mind a new revalation if you will. that thought...
My life has been really interesting. I was raised so differently than many people might assume upon meeting me. But to me it was so normal. I had insomnia when I was 10 until I was 16 because I was so used to sleeping in my mom's bed. I am homesick for Oahu. My little tender heart was crushed when my brother told me he wouldn't give me away at my wedding. I dropped eveyrthing (which wasn't much but a retail job and a handful of deliquient friends) to go 250 miles away and "gamble" the rest of my life away.
And now I am continuing my life with a whole new person. In a whole new place. With a whole new perspective on life. I am becoming someone's wife. not someone's charge. Not someone's "buddy." I am becoming one with another person that compared to how well I know myself, I have no concept of how to honor and cherish as well and as fully as I should.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Yesterday he danced with me. Usually, he is fairly resistant to dancing with me because of his mistaken belief that he posseses two left feet, but yesterday I was adept enough in wooing him with my whileys to turn me around the kitchen floor a few times. To a french song, no less. He didn't spin me or twirl me or dip me or do anything too fancy; it was, in fact, difficult to get him to hold my hand in a proper position. But when he finally relented there we were, dancing.
And for the first time ever dancing with someone, the whole world melted away. I was swept of my feet. He rocked me gently, now here, now there, and I forgot about the music. The room slid gracefully to the side of my vision and finally vanished and it was just him and I and the girl from Ipanema. He guided my feet smothly and held me close, warming my very heart with his tender touches.
It was in that moment that i realized that everything really was going to be as amazing as I had hoped. It was in that moment that i lost all worry and all strife. In that moment, my mother's nagging, his father's larger-than-life approach, my stuffy nose... all ailments woes and worries faded out and it was just me and my love floating on a cloud of heavenly rythn. In that moment, a full understanding of my life and purpose overwhelmed me. I realized that my home is and always has been in his heart.
And I am undone...
And for the first time ever dancing with someone, the whole world melted away. I was swept of my feet. He rocked me gently, now here, now there, and I forgot about the music. The room slid gracefully to the side of my vision and finally vanished and it was just him and I and the girl from Ipanema. He guided my feet smothly and held me close, warming my very heart with his tender touches.
It was in that moment that i realized that everything really was going to be as amazing as I had hoped. It was in that moment that i lost all worry and all strife. In that moment, my mother's nagging, his father's larger-than-life approach, my stuffy nose... all ailments woes and worries faded out and it was just me and my love floating on a cloud of heavenly rythn. In that moment, a full understanding of my life and purpose overwhelmed me. I realized that my home is and always has been in his heart.
And I am undone...
Thursday, March 23, 2006
I usually muse in my blogs with florid word choice and entertainingly descriptive texts, but lately I feel as though I have been depriving you, dear reader. Truth be told I have seriously been neglegting my own devotions to my writing for... shall we say, alternative activities. I feel like I spend all my time thinking scheming and dreaming about being with Mr. Awesomeness (to be called heretoforward Mr. Bunny) that I have neglected some of my fundemental callings in life. Mind you, gentle reader, you shall never hear (or read) a complaint of the former pass my lips (or fingers) it is but a mere observation.
To continue in a slightly different vein, God I miss him. Yes, Lord. I miss him. I miss being close enough to feel him take a breath, I miss seeing his eyes staring back into mine, I miss listening for his footstep to cross his threshold. I am here and he is there, 250 miles away from me. All for the sake of being mature adults. I should have never left him. Around Valentine's day, after having quit the "big Girl Job" and trying in vain to decide the next steps I should take, I went to see him on an impulse. I spent my last 60 dollars in gas and drove straight through, leaving my poor sick father in the uncapable hands of my lunatic of a mother for a full week and a half to try and decipher what type of situation this turn of events placed my life in. Decisions about what type of job to take, where to work and how to get on without him filled my weary heart. And I left him with the promise of returning in two weeks, completely detached of anything holding me from him.
Here is it, a month and change later and I am still here and he is still there. I am buying short moments of time with him by working a meaningless job 60 hours a week and I am making absolutely no head way in severing ties that might restrain me from my one true happiness.
Half of my worldly belongings are in his home. Being drenched in his company. I can just imagine it: My shirts by now smell like him, my lotions and soaps are annoying him when he is in the shower, and my books are a daunting reminder that he is preparing to tie his life to an unforgivable nerd. And here I am. Stuck in this horrible pergatory of missing him and not finding the courage to handle my life here. Not having the elan to possible bid adieu to all I know and take up my life with him. As his.
But I have nothing to fear. I have nothing to be wary of, for as i have said in my prayers, all of this is in God's hands.
Yes, Lord. I will be strong.
"Be strong and courageous, because you will lead these people to inherit the land I swore to their forefathers to give them. Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go. 8 Do not let this Book of the Law depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."
Joshua 1:6-9
Yes, Lord. I will honor him.
Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.
Ephesians 5:22-24
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Proverbs 31:30
To continue in a slightly different vein, God I miss him. Yes, Lord. I miss him. I miss being close enough to feel him take a breath, I miss seeing his eyes staring back into mine, I miss listening for his footstep to cross his threshold. I am here and he is there, 250 miles away from me. All for the sake of being mature adults. I should have never left him. Around Valentine's day, after having quit the "big Girl Job" and trying in vain to decide the next steps I should take, I went to see him on an impulse. I spent my last 60 dollars in gas and drove straight through, leaving my poor sick father in the uncapable hands of my lunatic of a mother for a full week and a half to try and decipher what type of situation this turn of events placed my life in. Decisions about what type of job to take, where to work and how to get on without him filled my weary heart. And I left him with the promise of returning in two weeks, completely detached of anything holding me from him.
Here is it, a month and change later and I am still here and he is still there. I am buying short moments of time with him by working a meaningless job 60 hours a week and I am making absolutely no head way in severing ties that might restrain me from my one true happiness.
Half of my worldly belongings are in his home. Being drenched in his company. I can just imagine it: My shirts by now smell like him, my lotions and soaps are annoying him when he is in the shower, and my books are a daunting reminder that he is preparing to tie his life to an unforgivable nerd. And here I am. Stuck in this horrible pergatory of missing him and not finding the courage to handle my life here. Not having the elan to possible bid adieu to all I know and take up my life with him. As his.
But I have nothing to fear. I have nothing to be wary of, for as i have said in my prayers, all of this is in God's hands.
Yes, Lord. I will be strong.
"Be strong and courageous, because you will lead these people to inherit the land I swore to their forefathers to give them. Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go. 8 Do not let this Book of the Law depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."
Joshua 1:6-9
Yes, Lord. I will honor him.
Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.
Ephesians 5:22-24
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Proverbs 31:30
Monday, March 20, 2006
Monday, March 13, 2006
I have been wronged.
Deluded.
Lied to.
Decieved.
I have been doing some random blog readings this morning (something I never do because, as I have just discovered, I am too self-absorbed) and I just figured out that I am not the only worthwhile blog writer in the world. My blog is barely passable when taking in all the other intelligent life forms of blog that there really are.
I had thought I was special. I had thougth that I brought something fresh and new to the scene. A nuveax-blogger classic, if you will. I am sadly mistaken.
I am one of those twelve year old girls who knows bigger words than her friends so her friends automatically tell her sh's a good writer. OR WORSE, I am one of those tweleve year old girls whose friends are sick of hearing her talk so they encourage her to write down her thougths and feelings!!
QUEL DOMAGE!!
What is there to be done?
Deluded.
Lied to.
Decieved.
I have been doing some random blog readings this morning (something I never do because, as I have just discovered, I am too self-absorbed) and I just figured out that I am not the only worthwhile blog writer in the world. My blog is barely passable when taking in all the other intelligent life forms of blog that there really are.
I had thought I was special. I had thougth that I brought something fresh and new to the scene. A nuveax-blogger classic, if you will. I am sadly mistaken.
I am one of those twelve year old girls who knows bigger words than her friends so her friends automatically tell her sh's a good writer. OR WORSE, I am one of those tweleve year old girls whose friends are sick of hearing her talk so they encourage her to write down her thougths and feelings!!
QUEL DOMAGE!!
What is there to be done?
Friday, March 03, 2006
I got to thinking about the reality of everything again the other day. Instead of being scared out of my mind or overcome with a sense of panic, i actually had a very centered feeling come over me. A calm that washed over me and kissed my brow. A few days ago, he called me just to say that he loves me. While that is nice to hear, it doesn't usually tranquilize my overcative and sometimes fretful mind. Maybe it was his additional statement. His calm and quiet inquiry. His strong voice cent slightly. He cleared his throat and took a preemptory calming breath into his lungs. I could almost see his chest move with the anticipation. He steadied himself. 'super footwear girl, i love you so much...' i replied and waited for him to share what was weighing on his mind. 'i love you and i'm not sure how this works but i have such a desire to love you as christ loves you...' and i am undone...
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
I haven't written in a while and I fear, for my most devoted readers, no excuse will suffice. I have, I know, severly weakened if not eliminated the intelligent life force behind internet blogging. But never fear, gentle reader. Super Footwear Girl is here.
You may be alarmed, shocked, surprised, or indifferent to the mention of my alias "Super Footwear Girl," and so I must explain. Upon returning from my last trip to Mr. Awesomness' house where I spent an indeterminable amount of time sulking over my impending destitution and jobless esate and the grief my mother has been supplying in regards to my much desired matrimonial bliss, I have come to a conclusion. That there is no time like the present for us to be married. In order to elope with my sweet heart and begin "Happily Ever After," I must first settle some debts here and, most importantly get enough gas to traverse the long way back to him.
Having no job, I wandered aimlessly in my mind, debating on how much a yard sale including all of my fineries would sum up. About nothing was the conclusion. My lifetime of collecting has given me many sentiments that are of no value to anyone but me. So what was I to do? Where to turn? To Famous, of course. Good old reliable Brown Shoe Company. Now I am currently back at my home stead (no, now mind you, not the closest store to me, they had no hours to give me.) I am re-employed with the store in the ghetto. 37 miles away from my house. Where I work 54 hours a week and can expect a pay check that will cover my gas mileage and if I am lucky, the expense of some ramen noodles.
Ahh, to be poor an in love. It would be tolerable were he but here to comfort my weary mind. But, as it is, it's just me and God hanging out. My mother has all but declared me the stupidest woman alive, my father is in the midst of dying and my brothers have never really noticed me anyways. I am sadly to busy for most of my friends and as for going to church, well, it's either go to work and earn $6.19 dollars for that hour or sit and be miserable for the want of Mr. Awesomness to hear the sermon and be at my side to discuss it later. Or to listen to me discuss it.
I cry about him not being here and I wish I had him to dry my tears. I now know what they mean by the phrase, "Don't marry the one you can live with, Marry the one you can't live without"
Off to find more sources of income so that I can go home...
You may be alarmed, shocked, surprised, or indifferent to the mention of my alias "Super Footwear Girl," and so I must explain. Upon returning from my last trip to Mr. Awesomness' house where I spent an indeterminable amount of time sulking over my impending destitution and jobless esate and the grief my mother has been supplying in regards to my much desired matrimonial bliss, I have come to a conclusion. That there is no time like the present for us to be married. In order to elope with my sweet heart and begin "Happily Ever After," I must first settle some debts here and, most importantly get enough gas to traverse the long way back to him.
Having no job, I wandered aimlessly in my mind, debating on how much a yard sale including all of my fineries would sum up. About nothing was the conclusion. My lifetime of collecting has given me many sentiments that are of no value to anyone but me. So what was I to do? Where to turn? To Famous, of course. Good old reliable Brown Shoe Company. Now I am currently back at my home stead (no, now mind you, not the closest store to me, they had no hours to give me.) I am re-employed with the store in the ghetto. 37 miles away from my house. Where I work 54 hours a week and can expect a pay check that will cover my gas mileage and if I am lucky, the expense of some ramen noodles.
Ahh, to be poor an in love. It would be tolerable were he but here to comfort my weary mind. But, as it is, it's just me and God hanging out. My mother has all but declared me the stupidest woman alive, my father is in the midst of dying and my brothers have never really noticed me anyways. I am sadly to busy for most of my friends and as for going to church, well, it's either go to work and earn $6.19 dollars for that hour or sit and be miserable for the want of Mr. Awesomness to hear the sermon and be at my side to discuss it later. Or to listen to me discuss it.
I cry about him not being here and I wish I had him to dry my tears. I now know what they mean by the phrase, "Don't marry the one you can live with, Marry the one you can't live without"
Off to find more sources of income so that I can go home...
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Love took me by the hand
Love took me by surprise
Love led me to you
And love opened up my eyes
And I was drifting away
like a drop in the ocean
And now I realize that
nothing has been as beautiful
As when I saw heaven's skies
In your eyes
And every time I drift away
I lose myself in you
And now I see I can be me
In everything I do
'Cause I was feeling as small
as a drop in the ocean
And now I realize that
nothing has been as beautiful
As when I saw heaven's skies
In your eyes
Love took me by surprise
Love led me to you
And love opened up my eyes
And I was drifting away
like a drop in the ocean
And now I realize that
nothing has been as beautiful
As when I saw heaven's skies
In your eyes
And every time I drift away
I lose myself in you
And now I see I can be me
In everything I do
'Cause I was feeling as small
as a drop in the ocean
And now I realize that
nothing has been as beautiful
As when I saw heaven's skies
In your eyes
Friday, February 17, 2006
So i got to thinking today... thinking about him. Thinking about what i'm really doing. Thinking about marriage. Thinking about love. Thinking about forever. i can remember the night that he told of how he felt. How we were on the phone but i could feel him leaning into whisper in my far the best news he had heard all day. 'i never thought i would feel this way... I am liking you more and more.' And that was all it took. In that moment i knew. I knew i had better be sure of this. I knew that once he had his mind set on me he would have nothing less. And here i am, preparing for the rest of my life. I never thought i would be so in love...
Monday, January 30, 2006
Creationism takes form and I am lost inside your world
One glance, two eyes, a hand, a hip, two lips
The world melts into you
To the left of center I find what my dreams have hidden
Your voice, my laughter, honesty becomes me and I am naked
Standing before you with nothing left and everything to give
You whisper, I move closer, we hear a tune played in the stars
A tune that floats and flies and sits inside your lips
Playing out over my heart,
Pouring out in smooth gleaming current
Coursing, flowing, pumping through my veins
A real love, soft and sweet and loud and vibrant
You race through my inner most parts
Discovering, uncovering, recovering the furthest pieces of me
From your eyes and hands a sweetness skips and drips
Upon me lands a dew of love
And I am undone.
One glance, two eyes, a hand, a hip, two lips
The world melts into you
To the left of center I find what my dreams have hidden
Your voice, my laughter, honesty becomes me and I am naked
Standing before you with nothing left and everything to give
You whisper, I move closer, we hear a tune played in the stars
A tune that floats and flies and sits inside your lips
Playing out over my heart,
Pouring out in smooth gleaming current
Coursing, flowing, pumping through my veins
A real love, soft and sweet and loud and vibrant
You race through my inner most parts
Discovering, uncovering, recovering the furthest pieces of me
From your eyes and hands a sweetness skips and drips
Upon me lands a dew of love
And I am undone.
RETROACTIVE POST WARNING:
This post was intended to appear November 20th and due to my ditziness it did not. Here it is though. Freedom and wheat...
Hey guys.
I know I have been extremely delinqunet in my blog writing lately, and so today I have set aside an hour, dedicate solely to providing you with good quality tit-for-tat blogmania.
The reason I have been unable to provide you with any digerstable reading can be directly blamed on my present ADD. With this new job and the whole crazy way I have been trying to live on like 3 hours of sleep a night, I haven't been able to focus on one thing for more than 22 seconds. And everything is the worse for it. Just ask my roomate. Poor thing, I am thoroughly surprised she has not had me arrested for the dirty dishes I have not cleaned in the past three weeks. It really is a criminal amount.
So the latest saga... The birthday. The boys. The kisses.
Yesterday was my birthday and instead of praying for someone to throw me a surprise party, or hoping my parents would remember or sulking in the misery that was the birthday blues, I decided that there are far too many people in this month that deserve a good party. Namely my roomate, Ms. Tattoo, two of "The Boys" and Ms. News. In order to keep my sanity and enjoy my birthday for once, I made a party for all of us. We had a luau theme at my roomates parents house, a chinese gift exchange and a couple of dips in the hot tub, all of which made for a really nice party.
"The boys" came into town, complete with their swim trunks just for little old me and let me tell you, I did not recieve a better present, nor could I have designed one, than to have the four of them on my doorstep. I dont' know what it is about them, but having only met them twice i can honestly say that I love them to pieces. I don't know why or how or whatfor or wherefore, but I do.
I suppose they should all have names here so that I could provide proper descriptions of them and so that I could enumerate the reasons that I love them. But it would be a feat. They could be "Boy 1" Ect., but that is hardly fitting for men I wouldn't mind marrying. The easiest thing would be to have them named "Mr. First initial here,"... If they weren't 2 and 2 of the same first initial. I would love to break my own rule and use first names, only because remebering the first names of four absolutely gorgeous men that would make any girl drool her coherency right out of her face is a feat to be proud of... But I just simply cannot do such a thing to myself or to my little buddies. Thats would just be un hott...
Oh well, untill I can think of a system, I suppose I should move onto the kisses; I know you are all awaiting this one with baited breath...
So The Boys walk up to the party house and they come in and we do the huggy huggy how are you I'm fine you smell good intro. And they hand me a bunch of b-e-a-utiful flowers which my easily distracted butt left at my roommate's parents house, and an extraordinarily large glass jar full of Hershey kisses. Well the night goes on and the hershey jar ends up as a gift in the gift exchange and i had to fight tooth and nail, scheming with the eldest to keep it.
And then there was one of those moments. One of those moments where all you can think is "Man, I need to marry/ make out with this kid right here, right now or I am going to explode." And I did. Explode that is. I don't know what to do, I am such a mess. I am sooooo in something with one of them and there's really nothing I can do about it, because at this rate, he'll just be learning how to spell my first name by the time I am picking out a wedding gown. SOMETIMES I HATE BEING ME. I do this everytime. I set my heart on someone/something/some situation that is so improabable it's sick and then, OUT OF NOWHERE, I get dissapointed. You'd think I would learn by now. Thats not too likely though...
Well I have officially spent an hour typing this and I have provided you with 15 minutes of somewhat stimulating material. I feel like I should offer shirts for entries like this one... Shirts that say "I read Luly's blog and all I got was this stinking shirt..."
This post was intended to appear November 20th and due to my ditziness it did not. Here it is though. Freedom and wheat...
Hey guys.
I know I have been extremely delinqunet in my blog writing lately, and so today I have set aside an hour, dedicate solely to providing you with good quality tit-for-tat blogmania.
The reason I have been unable to provide you with any digerstable reading can be directly blamed on my present ADD. With this new job and the whole crazy way I have been trying to live on like 3 hours of sleep a night, I haven't been able to focus on one thing for more than 22 seconds. And everything is the worse for it. Just ask my roomate. Poor thing, I am thoroughly surprised she has not had me arrested for the dirty dishes I have not cleaned in the past three weeks. It really is a criminal amount.
So the latest saga... The birthday. The boys. The kisses.
Yesterday was my birthday and instead of praying for someone to throw me a surprise party, or hoping my parents would remember or sulking in the misery that was the birthday blues, I decided that there are far too many people in this month that deserve a good party. Namely my roomate, Ms. Tattoo, two of "The Boys" and Ms. News. In order to keep my sanity and enjoy my birthday for once, I made a party for all of us. We had a luau theme at my roomates parents house, a chinese gift exchange and a couple of dips in the hot tub, all of which made for a really nice party.
"The boys" came into town, complete with their swim trunks just for little old me and let me tell you, I did not recieve a better present, nor could I have designed one, than to have the four of them on my doorstep. I dont' know what it is about them, but having only met them twice i can honestly say that I love them to pieces. I don't know why or how or whatfor or wherefore, but I do.
I suppose they should all have names here so that I could provide proper descriptions of them and so that I could enumerate the reasons that I love them. But it would be a feat. They could be "Boy 1" Ect., but that is hardly fitting for men I wouldn't mind marrying. The easiest thing would be to have them named "Mr. First initial here,"... If they weren't 2 and 2 of the same first initial. I would love to break my own rule and use first names, only because remebering the first names of four absolutely gorgeous men that would make any girl drool her coherency right out of her face is a feat to be proud of... But I just simply cannot do such a thing to myself or to my little buddies. Thats would just be un hott...
Oh well, untill I can think of a system, I suppose I should move onto the kisses; I know you are all awaiting this one with baited breath...
So The Boys walk up to the party house and they come in and we do the huggy huggy how are you I'm fine you smell good intro. And they hand me a bunch of b-e-a-utiful flowers which my easily distracted butt left at my roommate's parents house, and an extraordinarily large glass jar full of Hershey kisses. Well the night goes on and the hershey jar ends up as a gift in the gift exchange and i had to fight tooth and nail, scheming with the eldest to keep it.
And then there was one of those moments. One of those moments where all you can think is "Man, I need to marry/ make out with this kid right here, right now or I am going to explode." And I did. Explode that is. I don't know what to do, I am such a mess. I am sooooo in something with one of them and there's really nothing I can do about it, because at this rate, he'll just be learning how to spell my first name by the time I am picking out a wedding gown. SOMETIMES I HATE BEING ME. I do this everytime. I set my heart on someone/something/some situation that is so improabable it's sick and then, OUT OF NOWHERE, I get dissapointed. You'd think I would learn by now. Thats not too likely though...
Well I have officially spent an hour typing this and I have provided you with 15 minutes of somewhat stimulating material. I feel like I should offer shirts for entries like this one... Shirts that say "I read Luly's blog and all I got was this stinking shirt..."
Friday, January 13, 2006
The big girl job is no more.
I knew this day would come, I just didn't expect it to be so explosive. The woman I worked for was, to say the least, particular. Demanding. Frustrating. Wound Tightly. Annoying. Childish. Unfair. Inhumane...I suppose that actualy says a lot. All of which is true, but none of which is fair. She is a fellow christian and in that respect I should just say that she was "flawed" and leave it at that. But today I was called a liar, a thief, and a sabotuer for something I had no control over. So I am a little testy.
I have been called a lot in my short time here. But a theif? A Sabotuer? These things I am not capable of.
A little white lie here and there, sure... "Super Footwear Girl, did you drink the last of the whole Milk?" "No...."
A little thiever here and there maybe..." Super Footwear Girl, did you eat the Keebler cookies?" "Yes, I did...I know they weren't mine but they just looked so buttery and rich..."
But there is no way to name my character by these small and ultimately inconsequencial oversights of common sense and good judgement. You could not impound my life for the amount of theft of buttery, rich, chocolate-cream filled wafers.
I am not intelligent enough to think up ways to ruin any business because I do not think that way. I don't know how to. The best revenge tactic I have under my belt is post-it noting someone's car, and I have too big a concsience to even do that.
So I had to quit. And no, I don't think it makes me look guilty. If I were guilty of what she was accusing, I would have walked out when I preformed the task instead of waiting around to hear the fallout. If I were smart enough to pull it off and hang around I would have been smart enough to differ the blame. But I am not a criminal mastermind.
I am not a liar.
I am not a thief.
I am not a sabotuer.
I'm just a ditzy girl who tries her hardest and gets herself stuck in the most awkward positions...
(Get you minds out of the gutter...)
I knew this day would come, I just didn't expect it to be so explosive. The woman I worked for was, to say the least, particular. Demanding. Frustrating. Wound Tightly. Annoying. Childish. Unfair. Inhumane...I suppose that actualy says a lot. All of which is true, but none of which is fair. She is a fellow christian and in that respect I should just say that she was "flawed" and leave it at that. But today I was called a liar, a thief, and a sabotuer for something I had no control over. So I am a little testy.
I have been called a lot in my short time here. But a theif? A Sabotuer? These things I am not capable of.
A little white lie here and there, sure... "Super Footwear Girl, did you drink the last of the whole Milk?" "No...."
A little thiever here and there maybe..." Super Footwear Girl, did you eat the Keebler cookies?" "Yes, I did...I know they weren't mine but they just looked so buttery and rich..."
But there is no way to name my character by these small and ultimately inconsequencial oversights of common sense and good judgement. You could not impound my life for the amount of theft of buttery, rich, chocolate-cream filled wafers.
I am not intelligent enough to think up ways to ruin any business because I do not think that way. I don't know how to. The best revenge tactic I have under my belt is post-it noting someone's car, and I have too big a concsience to even do that.
So I had to quit. And no, I don't think it makes me look guilty. If I were guilty of what she was accusing, I would have walked out when I preformed the task instead of waiting around to hear the fallout. If I were smart enough to pull it off and hang around I would have been smart enough to differ the blame. But I am not a criminal mastermind.
I am not a liar.
I am not a thief.
I am not a sabotuer.
I'm just a ditzy girl who tries her hardest and gets herself stuck in the most awkward positions...
(Get you minds out of the gutter...)
Monday, January 02, 2006
I wish I could record every moment of my extended weekend with him and herein entail every plan we've made, but it would be impossible. My brain has logged every sigh and every glance and every touch so accurately, that to write them here would take down the system. It would overload it with words and clips of phrases and descriptive events and monumental sightings so much so that all the blogs in the world would be filled up with my sappy, sweet, over flowing, blissful verbal description of heaven on earth.
Between his beautiful house, the low rolling hills of Northern Pennsylvania, and the quant tiny town that he loves so much, I can't even give you a good picture of life with him. It's just too much. It's just everything.
He's just everything.
Between his beautiful house, the low rolling hills of Northern Pennsylvania, and the quant tiny town that he loves so much, I can't even give you a good picture of life with him. It's just too much. It's just everything.
He's just everything.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Le sexe est de consistance généralement plus tendre que le reste du corps. Il est plus sensible
et très sujet au chatouillement.
C’est bientôt l’été. Le ciel est pâle et brumeux. Il est allongé sur le dos, jambes écartées,
les mains sous la nuque, dans la prairie en fleurs au bord de l’étang.
Le sexe est le point où les humains ressemblent le plus aux animaux.
Now that that is out of my system (yea right if you believe that...)
There is something to be said for falling in love. Or for being in love.
Obviously there is something to be said for it or else people wouldn't want it so badly, there wouldn't be so many silly love songs, and french wouldn't exist, but hey, I just thought I would remind everyone just this once...
So Mr. Awesomeness and I were talking, like we do, for about 5 hours two nights ago about everything and anything and the conversation of fading memories come up. No, I shall set the scene for those of you that are not familiar with this plot line, or for those of you that feel as closely as I do to all of this and it feels like forever has gone by, but I only just met the Brotehrs in September. I have seen them maybe less than a half a dozen times in my life and I am still completely in love with them. But, having only 5 or 6 nights of fun and frolicking with the four of them, I don't have a wealth of memories, just a few choice ones. Not that I have forgotten them completely, but remembering their exact features and dimensions is becoming an increasingly challenging obstacle. He noted the same thing, even though I sent him a b-e-a utiful senior picture. This morning , at around 2 am, I get this continuation to the conversation:
Text message from Mr.Awesomeness: "Hey I finally got that picture open... Wow."
Me: "Oh Yeah?"
Mr. A: "Not that i forgot what you looked like but... wow.... You're gorgeous... My Princess..."
Now I would like to take a moment right here to talk about pet names. While under normal circumstances I hate pet names and anyone calling my "princess" is probably being really petty or obnoxious, it was truly a moment just reading it from him. I dont' know what it is about this kid, but waking up from a nightmare, more than half asleep in my brothers bed, reding that message... I have never felt so... I don't even have a word for it... flattered? Special? Set-apart? Complemented? At any rate, it woke me up well enough. I don't know if he knows how many feelings little wordslike that can evoke... I'm not sure that I even fully understand it... but they do and they did and I am... Something.
So a few hundred text messages and some audio phone issues later we decided to cal it a night. Not out of necessity, mind you. Not becausewe didn't have a million thought provoking things to say. Not because we couldn't have spent 5 hours talking eachother into christmas morning...
I'll finish later, right now I have visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.... if you'll believe that...
et très sujet au chatouillement.
C’est bientôt l’été. Le ciel est pâle et brumeux. Il est allongé sur le dos, jambes écartées,
les mains sous la nuque, dans la prairie en fleurs au bord de l’étang.
Le sexe est le point où les humains ressemblent le plus aux animaux.
Now that that is out of my system (yea right if you believe that...)
There is something to be said for falling in love. Or for being in love.
Obviously there is something to be said for it or else people wouldn't want it so badly, there wouldn't be so many silly love songs, and french wouldn't exist, but hey, I just thought I would remind everyone just this once...
So Mr. Awesomeness and I were talking, like we do, for about 5 hours two nights ago about everything and anything and the conversation of fading memories come up. No, I shall set the scene for those of you that are not familiar with this plot line, or for those of you that feel as closely as I do to all of this and it feels like forever has gone by, but I only just met the Brotehrs in September. I have seen them maybe less than a half a dozen times in my life and I am still completely in love with them. But, having only 5 or 6 nights of fun and frolicking with the four of them, I don't have a wealth of memories, just a few choice ones. Not that I have forgotten them completely, but remembering their exact features and dimensions is becoming an increasingly challenging obstacle. He noted the same thing, even though I sent him a b-e-a utiful senior picture. This morning , at around 2 am, I get this continuation to the conversation:
Text message from Mr.Awesomeness: "Hey I finally got that picture open... Wow."
Me: "Oh Yeah?"
Mr. A: "Not that i forgot what you looked like but... wow.... You're gorgeous... My Princess..."
Now I would like to take a moment right here to talk about pet names. While under normal circumstances I hate pet names and anyone calling my "princess" is probably being really petty or obnoxious, it was truly a moment just reading it from him. I dont' know what it is about this kid, but waking up from a nightmare, more than half asleep in my brothers bed, reding that message... I have never felt so... I don't even have a word for it... flattered? Special? Set-apart? Complemented? At any rate, it woke me up well enough. I don't know if he knows how many feelings little wordslike that can evoke... I'm not sure that I even fully understand it... but they do and they did and I am... Something.
So a few hundred text messages and some audio phone issues later we decided to cal it a night. Not out of necessity, mind you. Not becausewe didn't have a million thought provoking things to say. Not because we couldn't have spent 5 hours talking eachother into christmas morning...
I'll finish later, right now I have visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.... if you'll believe that...
Friday, December 23, 2005
I love this feeling. I love staying up until 2 in the morning, talking to him about nothing. I love sighing to fill the sleepy silence in that moment when both of us start to forget that we're on the phone and start imagining that we're right next to eachother. I love the feeling of falling into deep conversation about nothing and everything all at once. I love the way that I can hear in his voice when he winks and when he smiles and when he sighs to fill that moment where he really thinks about how I make him feel.
He might be l'un en dans un millon et digne de mon amour.
He might be l'un en dans un millon et digne de mon amour.
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