New Holes

This past summer, Jenna was either just back from Brazil or on her way to her summer routine of fuge camping and had some of the girls over for craft night. Personally, I was really excited since I had been in an office building for a long time and the chance to break free was like an opportunity of a lifetime...

I was planning on doing some watercolors, Jenna was either sketching or something similar, Tori was painting her nails, and Emily was putting together a scrapbook of all her student's drawings (really, could that be any more precious?). How did I remember all these nitty gritty details, you may ask. Well this night was very memorable:

Tori needed to leave early and I was blocking her in in the driveway. Jenna's apartment is built off her parent's garage and you have to get through an iron gate to get to her door, but the hallway you walk into leads to the pool in the back yard where Caroline dwells. Caroline: honestly, probably one of the cutest dogs, but, unfortunate for me, she's a creature of habit, also scared of the dark (dun dun dunnn). As all of you probably know, I'm vertically challenged. Jenna, whom some of you don't know, she is not. She is tall with brown hair. I am short with blonde hair, or it was blonde this summer due to the blessing of natural highlights. Back to Tori, she needed to leave and it was already pitch black outside. I walk out first probably giggling about something (shocker) and then " WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO!!!!" Gigantor Caroline, who I purposefully left out is a Great Dane, comes up to my neck on me when calm and standing still, is barreling down on me. Everything was almost a blur, except for the screams and the "OUCH!!". I get back in the apartment and Caroline is angrily barking at the door like, "How dare you be short and walk out on my property!". She sure showed me.

looks like the culprit, but she's so pretty. boo height deficiencies.

I'm standing in Jenna's living room holding my side and my upper thigh. I don't know what anyone is saying, I'm just standing there. Holding myself together. It felt like time had stood still, I don't think I knew what else to do. Finally Jenna asks me if I'm okay, and I think I respond with, "...uh, I don't know...". She takes me to her bathroom, I lift up my shirt and I hear, "OH CLARA!". Aw crap. What? I look at my side and see teeth scratches. Then I start laughing. How did this happen? How does this always happen to me? (laugh laugh laugh). I think Jenna thought I had lost my mind. Then she goes, "Did she get your butt too?" Yes, yes she did. I pull my pants down and DID SHE EVER! Jenna is yelling "I'M SO SORRY OMIGOSH OMIGOSH.... I'M SO SORRY! MOM, COME LOOK AT WHAT YOUR DOG DID!!" Her poor, sweet mother. Oh bless. My favorite part was when Jenna goes, "How about we put a Captain America band-aid on that?"

I walk out and fall onto the couch, I can't stop laughing. Jenna and her mom keep apologizing. Finally, after all my adrenaline wears off, I feel the pain of my new holes and I go home. Swim suit season was fun trying to hide the one on muh bum. So one of the scariest experiences, but also one of the funniest. I'm also glad it happened at Jenna's because the two of us could not have handled it better. Laughter really is the best medicine, Captain Amercuh helped too.
This is my life. Sit and stay a while. It gets better.

hey random, hey

My birthday is coming up. I'm pretty excited because this is one year closer to being able to rent a car!! What? No. That's just silly. I'm really excited about it because about a week and a half after the day of my birth, I'm going to Disney World to see Harry Potter and fall in love with those books all over again.

I'm not sure why I started with that; I haven't thought about my birthday in a while. I really had about 10 other things on my mind. I think for my jubilant return, I'll be serious. I have a couple funny stories to share, but I think I'm going to call some kids out, subtly, naturally. Hold on to your britches!!! I'm probably going to be talking about you... Aren't you excited?

Okay, so really this isn't mean, but I know I'm an observational person who likes to point out when people do something. My reasons for this are so that either I'll learn to be more respectful and kind or so that they'll see, if they read this jumbled mess, that they have some things about them they should consider taking a second look at. I have the great privilege to be friends with brilliant people, even if I don't care for what they love, I love to see them passionate. With football season upon us, I have to bite my tongue. I am most normally surrounded by Auburn fans, which isn't terrible, and since I don't pull for that team it's a stretch of love I'm willing to give to hear those kids talk about how amazing their team is and how much they "bleed orange and blue"( to be scientifically correct, that sounds dangerous and you should get that looked at). However, what I will no longer tolerate is a person who is so beaten down by their team's loss that they can't bear to be around people. They'd rather sit by themselves and wallow in their pathetic misery over a team that they 1) don't play on, 2) have put nothing into except some money for tickets and money for the belligerent (if you follow me on twitter, this has become my word of the week... no place is off limits) alcohol spree they went on after their team lost, and 3) are most likely not even friends with anyone on the team. I totally understand being upset; I get upset when Alabama does something dumb, but I am either mature enough or not so dependent on a team's performance that I cease to function like the person I am the other 6 days of the week. Grow up, guys. Your wife will abhor your behavior one day, she will, I promise. And remember, I LOVE FOOTBALL. I love it. So so much. Upset for a hot minute or 10, sure. 2 hours after the game is over? Absolutely not. Am I speaking from experience? Not really, nothing that really affected me, but remember how I'm observational? K, Thanks.


I have one of the silliest BFF's in the world, @scottymo88. Homeboy makes me laugh all the time. He also lives an annoying distance away and teased me with a little visit at the beginning of October and since then I've gone through horrible withdrawals. Kid, get home.

School... (look guys it's been a while since I've been personal, I need to get out my life stories before I talk about how my life is awkwardly wonderful) gahhhhhhhhhhh... knowing that I have to CONTINUE my education if I really want my master's makes me want to fall down and break my leg. I don't know what that would do, but I just can't even wrap my mind around MORE SCHOOL. This semester has easily been my most difficult. Some of my classes are challenging, but I really think it's because I've stopped caring. That's so bad... I love school, despite my previous declarations... I'm kind of torn between loving it and never wanting it to end and wanting to be free so I can have adventures in Africa or Pennsylvania or California. In that order. (I know you didn't see this, but I just got really introspective)

I think for now, before I get into the dirties of my heart and the really personal stuff, I'll bid adieu.

Oh! If you can all make a wish for me on my birthday, it needs to be that I can have more time to devote to this joy of a creation, my blizzog.

Here's a picture of my neph for the family:

he says my name now: arrah

life in law

I rarely have a day so ridiculous that I post about it immediately. However, they do happen, so here goes nothing:

Today was like any other day: got up... finally, got dressed, got my beloved dirty chai, went to class, and headed off to work (LIKE AN ADULT!). I was really looking forward to work today because sometimes school becomes so overwhelming that I need to be reminded I can play AND be responsible at the same time. The office is a great outlet for that. So there I am, blissfully seeing NOIs flow out of their bin, and then one of the paralegals comes in with the "look". You know like when you have to tell your parents you got ANOTHER ticket or that "your friend" wrecked your car, or, for the parents out there, that the baby pee'd on your side of the bed. Yeah, that look.
I even said, "Oh no. Why that face? Why the smirk?!"
She sweetly said, "Well, you know that subpoena...?"
"Yeahhhh... the one in Opelika?"
"Mmhmm..."
(insert lolz here) "You need me to take it, don't you?"
"Yeah... Is that okay?"
"Yeah, that's fine..."
Mind you, last time I served a subpoena, the twit that I gave it to was such a jerk. Dear human, WE PAY YOU TO COPY PAPER!!!! C-H-I-L-L-A-X. And dear person who doesn't know what a subpoena is, I'm not suing you, and if I were, I certainly wouldn't come here on my own. I'm just the messenger. 99.79% of the time, you just have to produce documents. You've been schooled.

Before I head out on my wild adventure, I get summoned to sign a Will. My nickname by one Speagie is Padme', like Queen Amidala ,or Natty P. He probably couldn't tell you my name if a gun was held to his head, but it makes it all the more fun. Anyway, the Will, so one of the guys, who I'm guessing didn't read a ton of comic books as a child because he yells this AWESOME line to me every time I'm need for one of those: "TO THE BAT CAVE PADME'!"

Okay, to the real story. So I get on the road and the first stop is Tuskegee. For those of you who don't know, as a small white girl, I would stick out like a turban on a plane (i just did that... didn't i?) in that city. So there I am driving down the road to the back of Tuskegee, even better, and my directions send me down the wrong county road. Since I'm like Michael and it's telling me to go into a lake, I must obey. I go down this road, dirt mind you, covered in trees, no one in sight, OH and did I mention my phone is on the fritz?! I have no ability to have verbal communication to the outside world. Texting is about as far as it goes. I tweeted about a million times on the drive over because I had nothing else to do (Oh our poor generation... we're broken). The only thing flashing through my mind is when my sister and cousins almost got killed in Tuskegee on a back road (story for another day). This is not healthy. I finally decide that, "you know, I'd rather live", and turn back around. I see a tiny Mom-n-Pop station at the last turn I took, so here goes nothing...
I walk in, completely bemused and disheveled:
Lady: "Can I hep you, hun?"
"Heyyy... hey, hey. Okay, so I'm super confused. I have no idea where I am, but I keep being sent down CR 53 when I want to go down CR 63, but, well, this keeps happening."
Lady: "Well, hun, you gosta go down duh road an you see a ho-tel on duh right an duh street right aftuh it."
"Okay, so right down the road on the right, a hotel is in front?"
"Yeahhmm. Choo know, right down deh on duh right. Mmmhmmnn."
"Okay. Thank you so much!"
"Yeah dahlin, on deh right, hotel, mmmhmmnn."
"Yeah, okay. Thanks again"
"On deh right, doll."
I knew at this point if I wasn't just completely rude and walked off  right then, I'd be saying thank you all day and I would still be in Tuskegee right now. Off I go. (Guess what was on the right?) I see that this road is not NEARLY as terrifying as the last CR. UNTIL I get to the place of my destination. Oh hey abandon log house and your scary side shop filled with overgrown grass and rusty trucks... Wait a second... Am I staring in Shark Night 3D?!?! jklolz. So I go to the house, and don't yell at me. My one job was to serve the subpoena, and I am going to  serve that subpoena. Well how about that, there's a creaky swing and a breeze? I seriously felt like I was in a made-for-tv movie. Long, LONG story cut a smidge short, I walk to the uber creepy shop that says HOURS: 8AM-5PM. Liars. No one was there. However, as I'm standing there I see in the distance a tree with lovely yellow leaves. One leaf falls, and falls slowly, to the ground. If any of you have "The American", so many long and dragging cinematic clips in that movie were in exact timing with my life. If you haven't seen it, don't waste your brain cells; ugh, just the worst. So now that the point in life I'm in and the love a fascination I have for symbolism and literature (thanks Flannery O'Connor) I thought, "OHEMGEE. That is totally representing my impending death," and I run back to my car. I send a text to one of the girls at work (remember HOW I CAN'T CALL ANYONE?!?!) threatening that I'll haunt her and everyone else in the firm if they don't get me out of there alive. Since there are no cell towers in the backwoods of Deathtopia, I don't get her response for a solid 20 minutes. Marcus Mumford and I bonded over some lovely lyrics and great tunes.


I get to Opelika, where the real place is for me to serve, and I can't find the building. I stop at one location and they send me into the Mexican ghetto. I try another place and they sadly see an ugly side of me. I may have snapped at one of the guys in the building, and he was just saying hello. My b, boy. The other guy must live with lots of girls because he was super sweet UNTIL he walks outside and says,
"Are you going to be coming back by here?"
"No. What? Why?"
"I could just take you over there."
"Yeah, I don't think so."
"Here get in my car and I'll pull up the GPS location-here-we-are-map-touch-screen-thing. (It should be noted: I'm technologically retarded and all technology knows that I am. Look at what my phone did to me.)"
"Uhh.. what's your name again?"
"Brian."
"My mom told me to never get in the car with strangers... (plop into his car)"
Sweet Brian found the building for me. And I thought I was done with ridiculousness, UNTIL:

I pulled up at the wrecker shop, where people actually worked, and as SOON as I get out of my car, "Hey daRlin. What can I do for you?"
"Is your supervisor here? I have a subpoena for him to sign."
"OH I DON'T WANT NO LEGAL DOCUMENT."
"It's not for you, it's for him. Is HE here?"
"No, baby. He ain't. He ain't been here but for 10 minutes today."
My face must have been full of rage or tears; I'm not sure.
"You o.k.?"
"Yeah, okay. Can one of you sign it and make sure you give it to him as soon as you see him?"
"I don't want my name on no legal doc-u-ment. I ain't bein sued fer nuthin."
"And neither is he. He just  needs to show up and testify. No one is in trouble. And subpoenas AREN'T BAD. PRODUCE DOCUMENTS, SHOW YOUR FACE. NOT. A. BIG. DEAL. Now one of you sign it. NOW."
"Alright, Will you go do it."
W: "So he jus gotta go to court? I gotta do that next week for some child support crap."
(you have GOT to be kidding me)
 William takes the pen from me and guess what... he has 9 fingers and about 7 teeth.
Other guy: "Alright, you from 'round here?"
"no."
"You come 'round here much?"
"nope." (then I thought, "I'll be back here in less than 2 days... he doesn't need to know that...,")
"Can I subpoena you fer lunch?"
"Absolutely not."
Papers are signed, I'm saying thank you to 9 fingered Will.
"You sure I can't subpoena you for lunch?"
"That's not how this works, and I wouldn't go anyway. Good-bye."
Mind you, I could not have sounded more condescending if I tried. Good Country People.

As I get in the car and I start to hear lewd comments about me (always a good feeling by the way. Makes you feel treasured. Buncha creeps), I was like "WHAT IS MY LIIIIIFE?!?!?!?!" I leave to go to another serving location and at 5:04, when I pull up, the building is locked. This is Life in the Law.

#east2west

 My friend Josh (Shwaa) was going out west to meet up with a couple other friends for a wild road trip. Before he left he had a wedding to shoot (he’s a part-time/slow getting things out videographer). My friend Jenna accompanied shwaa to the wedding, partially for my benefit since I was the one driving shwaa to the airport and needing to not die on the journey home. This is that story:

Jenna and I love music, but we REALLY love to sing it, especially car singing. You know, where you trap other people in the car and they have no choice but to listen to you and your person karaoke sesh… yeah, we love that. After the wedding that all 3 of us went to (btdubs, it was so beautiful; YAY MEAGGIE AND HUNTER!!), we were all disgustingly sweaty, and fortunately for my and Jenna’s noses, shwaa was close to a shower and took advantage (preesh). As we’re making our way out of Tallassee, we stop at the only gas station near the interstate for some caffeine and treats. After jenna and I get our snacks, we head out to the car, but not before we see Sgt. EXTREEEEME. The rent-a-cop is wearing combat boots, a bulletproof vest, has a bald head (nothing wrong with that, I’m just telling you what he looks like; everything else is ridic, but i actually like the bald look for a minute or two), and is carrying… a taser. A little bit excessive for a Saturday night at the Tallassee BP, but you know, I wasn’t going to judge... until the following happened. Jenna and I are patiently waiting for shwaa to get his chicken (gas station chicken… really shwaa? Really?), when Sgt. E. comes out with his gas station pizza, leaning on the trash can and busts out this gem of a story: “whell, yew know when dat bwoah comes back down her’, I’ma be ready. I tell you what. (whips out taser) I ain’t ‘fraid to use this. (tases the air) I hope Volduhmort (yes, VOLDEMORT) shows his face. I can’ way-uht,”.

Jenna and I are just sitting there, trying to avert our eyes, but he’s there putting this show on for us (Dear Sir, let’s get real. You probably don’t have a high school diploma; you work the night shift at a gas station; and you’re about 45. While your attempt at being young and cool and a bit BA was noble, you can’t avoid what you really are, old and washed up. Ttyn). When he said “Volduhmort” I’m pretty sure jenna and I fell over with laughter. Shwaa FINALLY got out to the car and we sped off into the night. Did I mention that I’m blind as a bat when driving in the rain or in the dark? Yeah, this just adds to the fun. 

Well, there we are.  I think Shwaa wanted to have a meaningful conversation on the way to the ATL, but Jenna and I wouldn't have it. We sang so much T.Swift that it would have made country people like heavy metal (we're passionate singers... not gifted). We find our way to the airport, drop Shwaa off (4 or 5 hours early mind you) and Jenna and I head back to the Gump. Before we really get on the road, we head to the nearest coffee joint. Awesome, it's a gas station. This gas station had a "coffee bar" with pumps of additives. Being that I'm about 5, I was like "PUMPS OF ENERGY SHOTS?!? GIVE ME 20!!!!". Jen over-loaded on cinnamon and we left... not before I hit up the restroom. As I'm walking out of the bathroom, I see this woman standing outside the door in her socks talking as "doown howme" country as possible. She was closely followed by her daughter wearing the same shoeless ensemble. As she stood and talked to me for about a billion years, Jen is standing off to the side just watching, no attempt to rescue, just watching.

Torture over, we attack the road again. And following are tweets that were sent from me and Jen that night: 

jpeyt: @clarabell87 is so hyped up on the crack cocaine energy she put in her coffee she's only saying 1/every 10 words she needs to to communicate

Me: I may or may not die from multiple tastebud hemmorages on the way home. #worstcoffeeever #85to65
 

jpeyt:  @clarabell87-"Taste it It's like burned popcorn and I like burned popcorn but this coffee's like kettlecorn burned popcorn what am I saying"

Me: This crack coffee has brought laughs out of me i didn't know i was capable of forming. They're really scary. #85to65

jpeyt: @clarabell87 fortunately it hasn't impaired your driving judgment...oh wait #85hopewemakeitaliveto65

 And don't worry, you know we took a twitpic to remember what the crack coffee killed in our brainz:

 After we decided we still wanted followers and friends when the trip was over... I had to go potty again. ( I blame it on the crack coffee) There were no gas stations open since it was about 2 in the morning est., so Jen and I got creative. We saw that there was a truck stop with lights on and we prayed it was open, but our (my) worst fears came true. We found a ton of shrubberies on the other side of the parking lot, which was massive, and we parked as close to them as possible, and, well... I guess you can figure out what happened... this was the picture that Jen took to immortalize the most ridiculous moment in my life (which is saying a lot if you know me at all):

The End.

perpetually providential

I found this in my drafts, and i said to myself, "self, why you no post this a long time ago?" And then I remembered that I had been advised not to... I don't see why I shouldn't have, I'm just asking a question, which is something I'm allowed to do. And here it goes: I've spent days thinking about how I could phrase this topic without either being offensive or sounding like pretentious. Friends, I love you all. Don't think I'm picking on any of you; I'm most definitely preaching to the choir. So... here goes nothin!

I notice that a popular theme amongst the majority of my friends is proclaiming God's goodness or how providential He is when they get something they really wanted. Excuse me, but there is something missing in that phrase/ thought/ action, right?

I know that there are many of my friends that will go, "Clara, you're totally taking this out of context. Why so literal?". I don't really believe that I am taking anything out of context. How often do you see or notice God working in the crappiest of situations? How often do we give Him the glory when we have the flu, can't study for a test, have a child that is sick, or whatever your crappiest situation is? Seriously. Ask that question... daily. I know for a fact that I struggle with this more often than I'd like to admit.

I saw a friend tweet that they were "thankful for the Lord's providence..." because they got something they  wanted; which is now something they are not happy with (job... shockerrrr). I'm not getting on to them, I'm just now aware of how little we thank God for EVERYTHING. Not just the things we want. What if they hadn't gotten that job? I hate to think how I would have responded. Actually, I know how I would have responded, and that is heart breaking for me to think about. This whole post might be full of questions and no answers and that's okay to me. I don't believe I'm supposed to have answers. I believe I'm supposed to question and become aware of who I am, what I say, and what I do. Aren't the most annoying things you see in others the things that bother you most about yourself? Well, I'm bothered. *sound the alarm* I plan on taking action.

What bothers you?

Minerva and Gottfried

For my 22^nd birthday, my mother surprised me with the most hilarious and ridiculous present I’ve ever received in my life. Here’s what happened:

Friday the 13^th, the day of my birth 22 years prior, I should have known something weird would come from being born on this day (like my liiiiife), my mother and I took the day to do our favorite things, book and clothing shopping. We spent the majority of the day looking at stuff for Europe, mom and dad were leaving in February for a trip, and then did a little clothing shopping for moi. After the day was over, mom had a few more errands to run so I went home and got ready for dinner for that evening.

All dolled up in my little jumper, so what if I’m 22, I can still rock a jumper, I was waiting on mom to come back to the house and get me for dinner. She comes in and calls my name. I walked to the kitchen where she was and she stood at the door with this very large cardboard box. She had “that” look on her face. I stood there looking at her and said,

“mom? What’s in the box?”

“it’s your present!”

“I thought the clothing and stuff were my presents this year?”

“no, I got you one more…”

Dun, dun, duuuunnnnn…

As she starts pulling things out of the box, I start to become a little concerned. Rocks? A bamboo stalk? Is that a display box?!

The last thing she whips out is a clear plastic box, like ones used for storage, and a bag inside. I’m standing there and I know I can feel my heart sinking. I. Am. Terrified.

Small back story:  my mother is one of the most thoughtful people in the world. I don’t think I’ve ever really appreciated it until close to recently. And even now I fail at seeing how precious she really is.

Thoughtfulness: when I lived in auburn, I had a pet fish, 3 really, but 2 died from ick. I barely mourned over them because they weren’t with me very long. However, I had this other fish, Thaddeus, who was a precious little tiger barb. I felt like it was appropriate, auburn tigers, tiger fish… anyway, I had Thaddeus and he was so cute. He would swim like crazy whenever my roommate or I entered the room. I think we watched Finding Nemo one night and he must have been paying attention because when I cleaned out his bowl later that week, he jumped down the drain. Freaking out, I call my mother and ask her, through tears, what I should do. She says, and I quote, “just get him out with a fork.” Me: (sob, sob, sob…) “YOU ARE EVIL!!”

All that to say, Thaddeus died; he found out only drains near the ocean lead to the ocean. All the other ones lead to sewage systems or to the nasty, evil duck infested pond back behind my house.

*Back story over*

Mom pulls out the little bag and two creatures are floating around in it.

“mom…? What the heck is that?”

“it’s frogs!”

“…like from our back yard?” we had an over population of those little tree frogs that would reign over our back porch at night; it was disgusting, but my mom thought they were adorable.

“no, clara! They’re African water frogs!!”

Puzzled look: “ohhh, naturally.”

“you love frogs.”

“no, mom. You love frogs. I love fish.”

I start laughing because I can literally not believe this is happening. Tears are pouring down my face, I don’t think my mother feels that this is any laughing matter and is bemused as to why I find humor in this at all.

“clara, you said you wanted fish, but I saw these at brookstone and thought, ‘she’s quirky. She’d probably love these.’”

Insert me falling to the floor, in a heap, still crying from laughing.

The rest of the night followed with me at dinner, and after a margarita, still laughing with tears, talking to my sisters asking why they allowed her do this, and hanging out with a friend later still crying from laughter.

The joke’s on me. They’re still alive, and one of my friends recently looked up the life expectancy for those specific frogs: as long as 20 years. Blessed little Minerva and Gottfried, the best/worst and weirdest present I’ve ever received in my life. 

taking a stand

i have a friend, danny, who shared with me this newspaper he started in high school. 1) i was crazy impressed with his ability to hide the fact that he was the editor for so long, and 2) the writing, though spotty with the grammar, was so passionate and poised that i couldn't help but be impressed by those kid's skillz (it deserves a "z" because it was awesome) (i guess you had to be there) (i really love parentheses) (they're so exclusive) (wanna be in my parentheses club? too bad sucka!!) (parentheses are meeeean).

after reading those wonderful stories, which most of them took place right after the columbine tragedy and the thoughts were SPOT ON, i was amazed at how well people write when they're passionate about something. i like being passionate. it's something i'm very fond of and something i'm a little too good at. when i discover something i love, i defend it to the death. so here i am, being challenged to be passionate. i thought about turning this into a "I-HATE-CLOGS-WITH-A-BURNING-PASSION-OF-FIRE-AND-BRIMSTONE-THEY-MUST-DIE-DIE-DIE". and while i do believe this, i want to passionately describe how much i love the written word.

i'm not very good at expressing myself through spoken word. i internalize; and i don't think i convey my heart well in written words, but i believe in the power of the written word. those words are forever there. they mean more because you, the individual with the desire to share, took the time not only to say, but to write down the feelings that couldn't simply just be said and then paraphrased later on in life for fear of losing their meaning and power, but wanted what you felt to be remembered in the form you intended it to be in. all that said, i love letters. i also love love-letters. passion in it's most pure and blinded form could not be more precious. blinded because everyone knows that what you feel for someone, not everyone feels that way, but you see that individual in a way that no one else does. people, write down your love. when you're angry, re-read those words and remember how much beauty there is in unconditional love. our society is insanely conditional. we typically do not approve of 2nd chances, but, oh, how many 2nd chances we've been given!

letters to juliet except not dumb

i love correspondence. i have a few friends that i write to, and if you've ever done this, there are hidden parts of the soul that are betrayed by the hand and left for the recipient to decipher. reading between the lines, if you will, which you will because you have no choice but to let me write what i think. sometimes i feel like letters allow you toss a burden aside for a few days so you can breathe and gather your thoughts. it's a great form of therapy, too. and it only costs $.44; claranomical. boom.

danny, you've made me feel passionate again. passionate about sharing things i love and treasure. challenge of the week, write a friend. mail is fun to write and SO fun to receive. it's special. make someone feel special this week. you'll be surprised how your letter will impact that person's day. unless it's hate mail. i guess it's still impacting, but really? how about you not.

here's something else i love:

george thompson

baby boy turned 1 this past week. little ball of joy. when i finish his birthday present, i'm totally showing them off. (hint: they're tiny TOMS) (eeeeeee!!!!) (maybe parentheses aren't so bad...?)

characterization

i already know this post will have 2 totally different metaphors. they kind of relate to each other, maybe. but you now know, if you've been a faithful reader, that i can only write in a stream of consciousness kind of way. bear with me. (every time i write "bear" i always want to follow it with: rawwwrr) :)

when i was 14, maybe 15, my oldest sister got engaged to the greatest guy. now, i knew i liked him-- i mean who couldn't, he's amazing-- but i had always had a hard time letting another person into my family. i'm super protective over the people i love. like sometimes it's out of control. all that protectiveness made me resent him for even TRYING to win his way into our hearts. boy, don't play. i've already got one brother, i don't need another one. (siiiigh...) i realized shortly after i turned on my, "ugh, you are ruining everything!!" attitude, probably the ugliest thing anyone could ever experience coming out of me, i became aware that i am Jo March. L.M. Alcott wrote about me before i was born. i, like Jo, refused to be pleased with the fact that my family was spreading and expanding. i also did the same thing with my other sister when she got engaged. we also kind of hated each other then, which was not surprising since i did not love the Lord at this time. anyway, i ended up coming around. my b-i-l, both of them, they are the greatest men. and i'm happy to be able to consider them my brothers.

shifting to my next thing, which is, again, maybe related to Jo, but maybe not. or maybe this is just my heart talking. like Jo (we're starting off on a good foot) i don't really care for change. i like the wildness of the world and i like to experience new things, but i do not like change within my close circles of life. when accepting my b-i-ls, it was a stretch for me. i didn't know how to love then. since becoming a follower of Christ, i want ALLLLLLL of my relationships to never ever end, but to forever grow deeper. which, i think, is something i've learned to treasure  and desire since i want the same thing to happen with my relationship with Christ. i want growth. i long for growth. but instead of shrinking back the growth just to my family and a few close friends, i want the growth i desire to spread from my initially closed circle to everyone i know, like a wild fire. very little would please me more. but i also know that what i want verbally can not be executed unless i act upon it with a strong action. sometimes trees (oh dear, here's where i break off from Jo) need pruning so that they can flourish again. which means something has to die. i don't like watching things die.

i had a fish very recently, her name was Tennille (R.I.P. girl, R.I.P.), and i knew, from experience, with the behavior she was showing that she wasn't going to make it. i was way bummed when i walked out to see her dead in the tank 5 days after i got her. it was also freaking my frogs out -- i'll share the frog story one day -- and so everyone Tennille met, she had made enough of an impact to freak them out by her untimely death. i wasn't expecting to write and obit for her... well there you go, Tennille. anyway, back to pruning. i know that sometimes things need to die or be cut away because they will kill you if they aren't. but what you also may not know, is i seriously struggle with being controlling. i like to have my hand in situations where i've made myself believe i can use my wily ways to have an advantage, and BOOM! everything's goin' my way... not so much the case anymore. i've seen, with a sibling of mine, that if you let go and stop trying to control, Christ will be seen more clearly because all i'm doing is focusing on loving and waaaaay less on controlling. it's sad to prune, but it's good for growth, and i'd rather be a submissive, blooming tree than a writhing, little sapling clinging to life, refusing to let go of my dead limbs, and let my Master get rid of the things that are destroying me (whoa). a beautiful, fruitful life is much more impacting than a life that never had blossoms, fruit, or love.

so i am Jo March. i am also a lover of Christ. it seems i'm also a tree. and i'm happy.

this was the day

i don't know if it is my severe kathleen turner voice or if it was because i watched william and kate last night, but today, i was incredibly bold.

thanks doll face...

voice: so i went to auburn this past weekend, and though we did almost nothing that would have made me lose my voice, i woke up sunday rendered voiceless. i can't figure out why i always lose my voice in that apartment. i guess i can't handle the awesomeness of erin... you're welcome for that little shout out. anyway, when  i do lose my voice, i think i feel most like the women in the 80s with their powersuits and butch haircuts. I AM WOMAN. HEAR ME ROAR. but really... i growl when i talk right now. groooss. anyway, so i growl, i also become way outspoken, and i don't know if today was just special because i was in a great mood since one of my classes just became an easy A class or what, but something just ticked inside me.

movie: last night i watched william and kate... along with 300,000 other lifetime fans (judge away, you're more than welcome to). i went to bed with a new desire: i want a prince... NOW.

dear prince charming, i'm here.

bad actor, good face

no joke. i woke up this morning and said, "pshh, ain't no prince here. i will say and do as i please,". did i ever. challenged one of the lawyers to a dance-off... then realized, "maaaaaybe i should wait to do that with a guy when i have on jeans and not a dress". good call clara. anyway, i don't know if the whole kate and william story just super charged me for boldness or super annoyed me that that only happens in fairytales, but i felt a little wild; being sassy to my employers and somehow got laughs and maybe a new found appreciation for my "humor", made the guy that i think is beyond precious and crazy out of my league laugh (always a bonus for me), and then... i did something else, but it must not have been as outrageous as it thought it was at the time. i don't know how diary-ish i'm being, but here we are. i have no prince options but...

all this to say: i wanna be a princess soooo baaaaad. because if you marry a prince, this happens:

i want to be a pez figurine

short stories

these next few items are too short to have their own post, but i wanted to share them nonetheless. i was actually driving home from work and got so excited to write this post that i giggled with joy. *cough cough- loser- cough*

Date of the Century:
a few years ago, i think about 4-5 -- ugh... i'm old--, i was asked to accompany a guy to a baseball game. i heard that this one girl who was like the lowest of the lows, in my mind, said no and my heart went out to the poor guy, so i gave him a "oh yeah! that'd be so fun!!". i now know why she said no...
i had a boyfriend at this time and even he was like, "really? i mean, sure, but really? him?". i was so ashamed that all these people were so hateful. i got all proud and felt like i was doing my good deed, little did i know it would be my good deed of the year. he wanted to come pick me up at the casa, but i was determined to let him know this was definitely a friendship thing, not a "hey bebe... how you doin?" thing. i get to the meeting place, he's a little late, no biggie, i'm late for everything, get in the car and the awkwardness began almost as soon as i got in the bucket seat. small talk, small talk, small talk... and i start feeling a little rough. it's real hot outside, like muggy hot, and we didn't have great seats. we were at a work thing for him and we were eating dinner on the backside of the field-- dumb idea, stadium planner-- which was bbq... something i don't normally care for, especially in the hot, nasty sun, boiling in the grossness of its fat juices. anyway, back to the story, so i start getting all these stares and whispers by older women, pointing and going "ooooh!!", oh no. here it comes... him: "so how do i need to introduce you?" me: "i'm your friend. friend. friend. friend only." him: "oh, okay." sorry champ.
the night goes on. boring conversations, meaningless dribble... and then i think, "hey i have some great stories from my summer. i'll share those!". so i start sharing my favorite story about this little boy who had turrets syndrome and would run around the camp screaming every so often that it would scare the mess out of everyone. so as i'm telling this i'm laughing hysterically, because come one, it's a funny story, and an awkward silence falls over us. ... "i have turrets." OH FOR THE LOVE!!!!! (what do i say, what do i say, what do i sayyyyy?!?!) "so what's it like living with that?" he then goes into gross detail, that to this day sounds made up, and i'm mortified. there were fireworks, but i felt so horrible (physically) that we left. i get home and i had a fever of 103. goes down in history as the worst date ever.


 Limited Understanding:
 one day i walking to the company parking lot to run an errand and there is a mexican* couple going in the exit of a private parking lot. (* i don't normally distinguish people because of their ethnicity... in the written word... but this time it serves a purpose).  i see the window roll down and i hear them call out me,
-"escuse me... can you help?"
-awww, bless, "sure! what are you looking for?"
-"where is the electric?"
-"like the electric company?"
-"yes, electric."
-"well, hmm, i'm not sure, but you're at the water works building and i'm sure they can tell you where it is."
-"no, electric. where it is?"
-"i don't know. but the water company does, and since you're blocking their exit, it won't be too far out of you way to ask them, (i didn't really say that, but i thought it). it's just right around the corner (i did say that)."
-"electric?"
-"nope."
-(insert rolling eyes and a sigh of annoyance... ON HER SIDE OF THIS CONVERSATION!!)
-(in my head) dear woman, it took everything in me to decipher what you were saying so i could offer you help, and you roll your eyes at me?! your child isn't even properly buckled!! 2 strikes against you, chick.
and i walked away and inhaled horrible fumes from the exhaust of their car. lose-lose.

Hallways:
i work in a lovely, old building. those of you that know my obsession with architecture can now understand why i love pointing out, "that's my building" when we go to the alley. exposed brick, wood beams, warehouse ceilings... anyway, i digress. in this lovely building there are INSANELY long hallways, mainly just one that everyone gets trapped on in a, "how long do i look at them?" battle. it can be super awkward. i feel like when i'm walking down that hall like i'm 4  or 5 years old again in the back of the station wagon that we used to have and when you'd get trapped back there in bumper to bumper traffic, you'd be stuck trying not to make eye contact with the people staring you down and have to be stuck staring at the the back of billboards like they were interesting to you; "oh did you see how that was built? nice frame... why yes, that is a nice frame. ... hope they made good money off that one..." oh clara... always fall for those pointless rabbit trails. so here are a few scenarios which i have either done or seen done.
here's the sitch, someone walks out of their office and  i  someone else just so happen to turn the corner at the other end of the hall...

• smile
• hey... unless they're at the total opposite end, then it's a smile and...
• whip out the phone
• hey, lookie there! that's a wall.
• (inside head) please go into an office
• stare at the floor... did the cleaners vacuum?!?! .... nope.
• stare blankly off
• play with hair
• please, please, please go into an office
• look at what's in my/their hands... that's what i thought, i'm holding paper.
• oh crap, i have nothing to do with my hands... 

i have a few more but those are my secrets. i also hope that the girls at work will start challenging me to dance offs if we get trapped in mile hike to our destination... for the whole hallway. bring it. i'm always packin.

so golden

i'm sorry i haven't written in so long; i have a few pieces in the making, but for the meantime this should hold you over... i like to pretend that my readers are waiting with bated breath until i post again. please let me live in this fantasy.

so, i found this in a link, and HOLY. CRAP. this woman took those old golden books (remember those? all the disney stories or any other story that influenced you as a child) and pasted the pages together to create this masterpiece.

the bodice is made of the binding, the gold part of the book, and the skirt is all the pages, color coordinated to make this fairytale dress. the surface area of the skirt is 22,000 inches.

 

go here to see the process of how the dress was made. 

lines

this will go down in a quote book one day; you know the one i plan on writing?

"Clara, stop talking like that; I can't hear you unless I pop my ears. Wait... (squeezing nose... POP), okay. Now, what were you saying?" - J.B.L.

SBXI

well, elusive spring break, you came and went... again. i don't know how this happened to me this year. i didn't get a lot of sleep, i didn't get much lounging around, i showered every day (who am i?!?!), and i only shopped once... did i just become an adult?!

so far in college, i've had pretty great breaks. freshman year: went to the beach and got a house with some friends. while some things were regretful, it was sunny, beachy and filled with fake tattoos... everything a girl needs in a week. last year: i was pining the absence of my boyfriend, but i'm pretty sure i went to the beach if even for a few days... or i did something where i got sun. lake? i don't know, but i remember relaxing.

this year: it started off with a bowling spree, a tequila sunrise, and warm face. it then crashed into being in a basement, organizing and sifting through files. running into people i've tried to pretend didn't exist anymore. having one night out where i had to leave early due to being at work the next morning, and the other night being forced to leave because i didn't drive. *lesson learned* i slept in until 1 on saturday, i guess because my body was trying to catch up on the sleep i was supposed to get that week.

i went to a lovely wedding saturday which further reminded me how unlikely it is that i'll be getting married anytime soon. and also that my little sister will probably beat me to the altar with the way my dating history has played out. i've accepted it and moved on... for the most part.

i keep forgetting the fine print on the "23rd year of life" contract that i signed. but if it isn't there... and it's not much to work with either, it's just scenarios. wondering if you're too old for trying to play young. making sure you really do have a future in the field of study you've chosen. desiring a life with a husband, but at the same time loathing the thought of having to give up freedoms.

i really like to go hear bands, whether local or from out of town, and i enjoy going to bars. clean ones on a regular basis. down-home-good-ole-bars that make me happy i grew up and got an education on the nights i need to feel better about my life. i do hate looking out into the crowd, because i'm a champ at people watching, and feeling the pain of, "am i going to be THAT forty-something one day...?".

the thought of feeling like i haven't actually chosen a field of study where i will be successful scares me. i don't mean money, that's just a perk, but what if i really suck at my profession? what if i never help anyone? what if-s could go on forever in my mind. i've discovered i'm a worst-case-scenario freak. it's weird and slightly disconcerting, just like my height.

i had a conversation with a girl at the wedding saturday and we both were talking about how annoying it is to be told "oh! i guess you're next in line aren't you? (smirk)"... for the love, back off my child-bearing hips and let me alone. there is really too much pressure on girls in our sweet, laid-back, southern society. it's really not laid-back at all. it's severely stressful. i know i've written about this before, so i won't fixate on that topic.

i love my mom, she's so funny and wise, but bless her, if she isn't trying to find me a guy every time we talk. we officially have a list of guys she wants me to try and "win" (<--- #thingsthatareimpossible). she actually told me on the way to the reception saturday, "clara, i want you to add _____ _______ to the list. he would be so fabulous!" he's added, along with 4 other guys, some of which are never going to happen because of the league thing (out of it).

anyway, all of this happened on my spring break; it's PAINFULLY obvious i like to think about everything i'm doing/ want to do. sorry you decided to endure that. anyway, i am excited about my field, if i'm unsuccessful, so be it. i'm sure God will use me in a way of "what not to do", and those people are necessary too. i might never get married, but i'll always love music. and i refuse to dress like the people i make fun of. i really hope you have a happy monday... it's supposed to be sunny, like it is in philadelphia.

experiences

last may, my family went on a camping trip up at tumbling waters in NC. it was the most beautiful place i had been to in a while-- shortly after this trip i went to africa, so it got one-upped. the terrain is lovely, the sky was lovely, the air was unpolluted loveliness, and the people there were lovely. all in all, a super wonderful experience. what could mess it up?

there were 3 families up there: mine, the morrison's, and the ... crap, i'm blanking on their last name... oh well, we'll call them the other family. we took the first day and went tubing down this freeeeezing cold creek/river/glacier.

blissfully ignorant

so we head down the c/r/g, and after the first trip down, once we got used to the subzero temperature, someone had the "brilliant" idea to lay our tubes next to each other and hold on to each others handles aaaaaall the way down. "... ... THAT SOUNDS GREAT!!!!" (it should be noted that our bodies were in shock from the cold water which resulted in our thought processes being low) and we're off.

there we go, all smiles...

 we grab hold, and at the beggining it was really fun. we were laughing, and then we remembered the rapids...

death

okay, so they weren't that terrifying, but when there are 8 tubes that are being pulled in 8 different directions, it felt that scary. one of the girls, leigh ellen, got ripped from her tube and was being thrashed between rocks. i got this crazy surge of motherhood protectiveness-- must have still been under the influence of cold water--  and jumped into the water to pull leigh ellen out. her poor little face, bless it. i could tell she was watching her life flash before her eyes. i saw all kinds of terror. her brother, on the other hand, was laughing at us. looking down from his protective tube, laughing at our pain. my foot started to get lodged between two rocks in the middle of a rapid. i was freaking out, but i had to save lellen. as i am trying to get her out of the water and into her tube, i feel my foot go one way and my ankle pull the other. i somehow get lellen out of the water and pulled myself out. it was most definitely the most scared i've been whilst in water, and that's including the time i almost drowned in CO white water rafting; i still don't forgive you, john.

do you see our determination? holding those handles till death do us part.

we made it out, almost unscathed. most of us had some nasty bruises, but no bones were broken.

we needed a pick me up, so that night we went up to tellico gap to climb the fire tower and watch the sunset. the hike was about a mile or two and we were racing against the sun. btdub, when you're running up a mountain to beat the sun and watch it set, a lung will collapse. just a forewarning. well, once i learned how to breathe on one lung, and after i climbed to the top of the fire tower, conquering my fear of heights, we saw this:

worth it

and then, by default, this happened:

on the way home, we saw lightning bugs. all the girls went, "awwww". then we turned this corner and saw a field that was lit up like christmas with lightning bugs. we jumped out of the car and sat on the side of the road for about 30 minutes just watching them. it was magical. as a joke we played the song "fireflies", but then we realized that was dumb and turned that trash off. that day ended up being pretty awesome... now on to the next.

so i had to work on monday, and my famjam wasn't going to leave until monday afternoon, so scott and i left sunday after lunch. scott had been kind of ill the whole trip, but was such a trooper to join us on everything, and laugh in my face as i was saving his sister's life... not bitter...
so we get on the road. i'm almost completely worthless on road trips. i either get car sick or fall asleep. my body chose the latter, and about as soon as we hit the interstate, i was gone. so scott's sick and i'm passed out cold. recipe for disaster.

we get to atlanta and stop for a drink and to change drivers. scott is feeling worse than he had all day, so i think out of guilt i step up and drive. i grab my bag to go get something to drink and it is dripping wet. no joke, the whole bag is sopping. the passenger side floor board is covered in liquid. i go in the store and buy paper towels. scott, in the meantime, met a new friend. i'm going to call him bubba because it is the only name that can describe him perfectly. bubba is wearing a talladega super speedway hat, a shirt with the wolf howling at a moon, and some work boots. he kindly offers his help to these two confused souls that can't figure out why the floor of the car is now a pool of liquid. i'm standing back watching this whole thing play out. B: "well now, whut's wrong, son?" S: "umm, i'm not sure. we don't know what this is and how it got here. it looks like it's draining in from the engine." B: *puts finger in liquid, and licks said finger* "well, it t'ain't an-tuhfreeze."
scott and i both drop our jaws... uhhhhh... did that just happen?!
B: "see now, son, i usta work in uh car shop down the road... bin dealin with cars fer twenuh-two yers. i'd knowd an-tuhfreeze if i tasted it." S: "oh, okay. well thanks, sir. we should probably get going. we still have a long drive." B: "better get that car into uh shop when yous get home now, ya hear." S; "yes, sir. thanks again."

so we head out. scott and i are still reeling from the events that transpired. he falls asleep... the car starts to fail. no lie, less that 15 miles down the road, every single light on the dash comes on. there is some massive engine failure going on. i felt like sandra bullock in "speed". i kept telling myself not to let it drop below 65 mph for fear of exploding. as we exit to get to my house, the car almost completely stops. we pull into the entrance of my neighborhood and the car dies. completely dead. i have never in my life seen scott so angry and i've known him for about 13 years. he tells me to stay in the car to steer and he'll push it until it gets to the hill. the car goes down the hill, around the pond, and my neighbors stare. not a single person tries to help; dear neighbors, oh, you are the worst. i get out and start pushing it myself. <--- something i NEVER want to EVER do EVER again for the REST of my life. scott joins me and we get to my house. he is fuming with frustration, illness and rage. i give him the rest of my starburst and drive him home to sleep. i tell him he'll laugh about it soon... to this day, i don't know if he's laughed, but i certainly have. the car was fine. leaves had clogged the air conditioner thing and the water flooded the inside of the car. cost nothing to fix. what a happy ending to a wonderful weekend. just lovely.

work 101

i've just started a new job and normally i don't reeeally care too much about what i wear, i just wear what makes me happy. (as the sub-title declares, i love clothes, but brands and junk don't affect me too much) anyway, back to the job. i don't own work clothes; i own "church" clothes, but my job title is "runner" so i don't need to look that dressy, just enough to be presentable when i go on errands/ serve subpoenas (<--- AWESOMENESS). this has turned out to be a greater undertaking than i had previously expected. people don't make clothes for the "in between". they make dressy suits, and they make cute casual, but i can't go running around in a flannel button-up and skinny jeans and my wonderful flip flops. clearly you can see what my desired wardrobe is. also, home girl specifically shopped at 5 different places (t.j. maxx., francescas, j. crew, target, forever 21) for a brown skirt. just a simple brown skirt. a waist-tie belt would be a nice touch, but i don't need too much. i know i'm a beggar in this area; dear hateful earth, you provided me with nothing. well that's not entirely true. i found one that made me look like i was leftover from soviet russia. it is not advisable to look like you support communism at a new job. also, when i think about the old soviet russia, i picture the women in head to toe khaki, and not having any part of their body showing, besides the hands-- which would most likely have gloves covering them-- and their faces. I know most of them aren't muslim, so i'm not concerned about offending them on that point. and since i canNOT  wear a floor length skirt without looking retarded, or like a 4 year-old at the christian girl scout day camp, i absolutely tried on the mini, and you know i would have been the soviet whore. also not O.K..

there i am shopping. and today in one of the stores i decided to test my wardrobe fate, i found a super adorable skirt (fig. 1)

fig. 1 (let's pretend my legs are that lean)

i'm with jennana, who is HOOOOMEEE!!, and i of course have a small fashion show. one dress i put on, looks like something marshall, how i met your mother, would wear as his night shirt. it was horrendous. and ginormous. so then i put on fig.1 and said, "you must stay on my body because you are precious". so, naturally i walked out, asked the girl if i could leave with the clothes on and put my old clothes in the shopping bag. she laughed and said yes. well i was in a predicament because the shirt i had on was see through, but before i found fig.1 i had on a sheath over the otherwise scandalous top. had to get a cami... this little blue skirt made me happy to have something new, but cost me a pretty penny.

back to work clothes. i've been doing an absurd amount of online therapy trying to find things to wear. i have a plethora of comfortable clothing; i stocked up on jeans over the break, biting me in the butt now. however, i realized swiftly that i have lots of tiny dresses and only one skirt that i can wear and be comfortable in. oh. no. tiny and picking up boxes and micro managing a place that, let's be honest, is in need of a meticulous clara, where ever she is, do not go well together. skirts and pants are almost exclusively the way to go. unless i want to be unique and wear some volleyball spandex under my dresses. i think that might be more scandalous than people seeing my undies... they're basically the same thing. we'll find out.

since the shopping excursion started i've come out with 2 skirts, 4 tops, 2 belts, a new wallet (what? i needed something to pay homage to my bank account...), and a depleted bank account. i'll have to continue this shopping spree later, like when i get my next paycheck. so far job, you're costing me money to work. that better change soon, or you better start giving me some change (heyoo, punny)

leftovers

there are 3 staple articles of clothing that i bring with me on almost every trip i take: pajama pants, sweatshirt and an over sized t-shirt. together, these make up the most comfortable trifecta known to (wo)man. these are leftovers from ex-boyfriends, and sometimes could be considered the best part of them. these 3 articles are from 3 previous relationships. 2 of the pieces are from big time ex's, the other piece doesn't deserve the title ex, he's more of an "eh".

i went out to arizona recently and when i was packing i remember scrounging to find that overly loved t-shirt... then i caught my self asking why. why do i need this so badly? why must i always have this t-shirt/ sweatshirt/ pair of pj's when i go away? *gasp* oh now... why do i "need" them? (insert deep thoughts about feelings and all kinds of crap) (psychology, gets me every time)
i "need" them just like i need my bright red stilettos, because i have a relationship with them. i love them, and they make me happy.

• pajama pant guy: boy went AWOL after we broke up. i would see him around and i don't think even catching your best friend making out with your boyfriend could have felt more uncomfortable than this encounter made me feel... every time i bloody saw him. the worst. he got over it soon enough and got married to some fresh meat, and now he's happy... at least i think he is. he defriended me on facebook. (wonk, wonk, wooooooonk)

• t-shirt guy, a.k.a. the "eh"... i tried to give his clothes back. i didn't even want them, which is kind of a huge thing since guy's clothes are the most comfortable in the world. however, he's severely conceited, so while we were hanging out for the last time, he forgot about them and traipsed off to play with his purposefully disheveled hair. i'm keeping them because i plan on never seeing him ever again. if i do ever see him, well, i won't so that's that.

• sweatshirt guy: we're actually wonderful friends now, and he knows i'm never giving that blessed sweatshirt back and i never even once attempted to give it back, along with another few t-shirts i took... in fact, i wear that thing in front of him and relish in its warmth and happiness. i know, sorry buddy.

i certainly don't treasure these items more than any other articles of clothing, but they were free and they come with a handy-dandy memory or two. and sometimes, just sometimes, i feel like i got the better end of the break-up... i get the joy of being warm and comfortable all the time. what else could a girl ask for?

i wake up to...

i love etsy. there are so many adorable shops and all kinds of wonderful designers out there and they are just so sweet to share their talent with the world. i stumbled on this shop this morning. they have things like:

hello lovely...

and then this...

every morning i wake up with songs in my head. sometimes they can be as lame as "mary had a little lamb", or they can be as wonderful as adele songs, like this gem "rolling in the deep". have a great wednesday everyone!

listen. love.

SOTD: The Civil Wars - Poison & Wine

so i saw these guys last week and i can't get their songs out of my head. this one and "falling" have been on repeat, so i need to share them. This is The Civil Wars and "Poison & Wine". prepare for all the loveliness in the world to collide in your ears.

listen. love.

potterarians

I have an issue. I let books that I read affect my daily life. The biggest problem so far is the most wonderful books ever written ever, ever, ever Harry Potter series. As an avid fan, I have allowed my imagination to run wild (like that's any different from what I allow my mind to do anyway) and almost always link any conversation into "Potterarian" concepts. Btw, I totally have dibs on coining that word. Here are a few scenarios:

• I was leaving my friend Alaura's house one night really late, or really early in the morning, and sleepiness had encroached upon me. It was painfully cold and all the water in any sewer or drainage ditch was steaming up from the ground. Her neighborhood has no lights on the street, not good for this girl who 1) is horribly directionally challenged and 2) is almost as blind as a bat, especially at night. I'm driving, I don't see it coming, but there's a drainage ditch ahead. (dun uh... dun uh...) I get closer. (dun uh, dun uh, dun uh...) WHITE MIST!!! All alone in the car I scream, "AHHH DEMENTOR!!!!". 

i totally saw this

• I have just recently fallen in love with The Civil Wars. Their new album is called Barton Hollow. False. To me it's Godric's Hollow. 

•  I use "disapparate" at least 3 times a week in regular conversation. My friends can vouch for this.

• Sometimes, when I'm talking about Voldemort, I refer to him as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named".

•  Also, @Lord_Voldemort7 is one of the most influential tweeters in my day. That's mostly because he's hilarious and sometimes he says things that I always want to say, but I'm too afraid to type it out. So I retweet.

I think more so now than ever do my Potterarians surface, because I have friends finally reading the books. And probably because, and let's be honest people, being a muggle isn't all that it's cracked up to be, am I right? Also, knowing I could produce magical babies!! What?! Is anything cooler? I'll answer that for you. N-O. I know the guys are British, but let's get real, George and Fred? Yum. And Harry is presh... and for you sick Twilight fans, hellooo, Cedric Diggory.  Magic over glitter any day. Didn't you people see what happened to Mariah Carey after she did "Glitter"? She had to marry Nick Cannon to get popular again. Nobody needs to suffer like that. I don't know how I got to this point... Potterarians to Nick Cannon. Eh, whatevs. If my serious tangents haven't convinced you to read or reread these books, which wasn't my original intention, I know I've just convinced myself to reread them. Check 'em. I'll even help you purchase them... here you go. Remember, if you don't read them, you'll marry a Nick Cannon.

disney nailed it

little did we know, as wee children, that disney was already corrupting our minds to view the world as they viewed it. now, since lsd wasn't available to children, most of us had to rely on our imaginations to think like the disney imagineers. (<--- this has almost nothing to do with this --->) for some reason i get very reflective when i shower. not that i start to glow or anything, but i start thinking about things that have happened to me in my life. i always think about auburn. there are about 9 bajillion things i forget that happened until something stirs my memory. so, the other morning, as i was showering i remembered this:

I lived on this little road in Auburn called Hampton. It was completely duplexes and the street was just lovely. It was quiet and, lucky for the 6 year old in me, there was a creek that ran behind my house. The creek was connected to the back side of a wonderful park called Town Creek. TC had a sweet running trail, and being cheap and not wanting to join a gym, I ran all the time. There was a huge (to my little legs it was huge) hill that went through a side of a cemetery, then it would loop out to the main road, and circle back into the park. I ran that trail either twice a day or twice in a row, which explains the tendinitis I suffer from now. On the back side of TC, where I typically entered, there was a nice pond. I've had 2 sets of friends gets engaged at this park... I wasn't kidding when I said it was wonderful. On one gorgeous spring day, I was minding my own business and going through my run. Most of the time I forgo listening to music when I run so I can either just take the time to not think, or take the time to enjoy no electronics and it's just me and the gravel getting to know one another. When I fall, the gravel gets to know me too intimately, but that's another story. It was a good thing I didn't have my ipod because I would have never heard my enemy approaching. The pond had a ton of ducks, if the day was right. That day, was the right day. I was almost done, winding back around to the back entrance, closing in on the first bridge when I hear a loud and angry "QUAAAAACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK!!!". I turned to see 3 ducks chasing me down.

GET OFF MY LAND, HO!

I stop jogging and start running. I see two other runners coming towards me and I start yelling, "TURN AROUND!! DUCKS!! EVIL DUCKS!!". They laughed initially, but then after they passed me, I heard them yell and change directions. I was terrified. This didn't go on for just a second, they were on a hot pursuit. They followed me all the way over the bridges and down the road to University. It took me two weeks before I could run in that park again. I was scarred. And the fear hasn't left me. I like ducklings, just like I like kittens, but once they grow up, game over. I pretend to be excited about going to feed them with the kids I babysit, but I try so hard to make sure I don't have to be anywhere near them.

he wants to see if you smell good enough to eat

nothing about this is cute

so when i say disney nailed, i mean it. donald duck had a quick temper and was easily pissed off. warner bros. had daffy duck. also an angry and easily aggrivated duck. maybe they were just preparing us for when we were older. lisa frank was trying to make bears and tigers look like your friends, all glittery and covered with flower stickers if you wanted them to be "look kids! tigers and bears love to be sparkly and flowered up! pet them, love them." see how they never brought ducks in? disney was spittin the truth and lisa wasn't going to pretend they were wrong. 

fig. 1

fig. 2

Wonderful Wednesday

I love everything about college. I do, really. Even though I complain about tests or paper or any other kind of work I have to put into passing a class, I still love everything about it. It's prevented me from entering the big, bad world  yet and I'm okay with that for right now. I'm mainly okay with this because it leaves me time to do things I enjoy doing, like reading, drawing, or SHOPPING. This post is not about clothes, even though there are about 500 things I want for the Spring months; cardigans take up 59% of my desired wardrobe. (rabbit trail) I saw this guy today on campus, actually had the pleasure of passing him, and he had on the most wonderful outfit ever; grey wash straight jeans, dark corduroy TOMS, a vintage wash graphic tee, and a glorious dark mustard and brown old man cardi with over sized brown woven buttons and a collar. I know my jaw dropped, and I don't even care. I relished in his "pshh, I don't care what I look like, I just threw this on" attitude, and his amazing ability to dress*.

Anyway, this wasn't about clothes. Or was it... remember how I love college and clothes? Sometimes great things come out of both of these entities being put together. Sometimes, things get ugly. I know I'm not in impeccable shape--working on that-- however, I also have the foresight to know when an outfit can turn into something dreadful. Leggings. I adore them. I'm a cold natured person, except when I sleep... [Dear Future Husband, if your body touches mine and I'm sleeping, that's not drool, it's sweat. Also, If I snuggle with you and I'm playing big spoon and then I move away from you, your shoulder does not have drool on it,  it's sweat. Never drool, always sweat. Weird, I know. I apologize in advance.]... so I wear leggings under jeans on a regular basis. I even wear leggings under jeggings. It's an issue. Anyway, I know how to wear leggings if I don't have them under jeans. Long shirts girls, long ones. Ones that cover your hiney, and ones that don't hug to your body, kind of defeats the purpose. Too often I see girls breaking this rule. Short shirts... ugh, WHY?! Wait, short shirts and you're 5'3 190 lbs? Oh. Em. Gee.  Sweetie... just no. Never shall you ever. I saw a girl the other day, as I was walking out to the Liberal Arts parking lot and was trapped behind this girl who moved like molasses. Look honey, just because a hot dog is fat crap squeezed into a case and people eat it does not mean people will like it if you try the same thing with your legs. I kept wondering if the seams were going to bust. Rude? Maybe. I think I might have been more rude not to point out that she looked like a sausage link. Guh-ag.

Alright, who's next? Mom Jeans. They need to die. Those along with Dad Jeans. One of my professors, my favorite by far this semester, rocks those like a hurricane (<--- see what I did there). No lie. He is the exception. He's got this serious built upper body, like he used to pick people up just to carry them around and show off how strong he was. He's not disgustingly built, I've never understood the appeal, but he's so broad and "Rrrrghh"-ish. Back to the pants, he wears them to every class. The thing I don't get is that he's an attorney and I thought, by default, those men typically ran to nicer, in style clothing. I was sorely mistaken. I can't hate on him though, he's much too endearing. But those "pants". I can't take people seriously in them. Hello, 1995? You have a time traveler lost in the 21 Century. You can take his pants back? I need to redress him. Oh boy, he's lucky I like him.

So clothes... sorry about that. LOOK! Something pretty :)

i need the freaking heck out of this.

* Story may have been slightly exaggerated... Did I mention he had dark hair and and scruffy face? Hollaaa!
Journal: beautiful