i blame my dirty looks on lack of sleep

i think it is safe to say it is harder to love people when you're tired.

as in, not possible to give them the benefit of the doubt when you're sleep deprived. 

severely.
and when you realize you will yet be sleep deprived for an additional 4 days because there is a blasted paper to write (which is thus far, impossible) and employment and two tests (one being neurobiology-- eek!) and general conference (yay!) and necessities like showering and eating. and grey's (of course). 

yes.

people are irritating. 

random people on campus, mostly.
little tidbits of personality that would normally brush right past me bristle my annoyance.

i need to get some sleep.

then just maybe i won't be so irritable.

it's britney, b*$#%

day 13: a song that is a guilty pleasure

britney.
i know, i know. . .
she's a psychotic skankatronic hoe-bag and her music videos are beyond suggestive and obscene.

but i can't help but love this crazy bald-blonde-brunette beauty. even if she's a little misled, her music is catchy and i must admit, i went and saw her in concert. and you know what? it was awesome!

plus. britney spears' themed glee this week?!
loved it. 

voldermort wouldn't even recruit them

there is a couple. a couple in l-o-v-e.
{not to be confused with the green plaid couple}. 

this couple is even worse.

granted, they're in my lds marriage and family class but... still. 

they sit in the middle aisle, boy behind girl, second and third seats from the front. basically, the direct focal point of the classroom.

they are so obviously in love, and it makes me want to gag.
 because he rubs her back. constantly. a neck rub here, a shoulder rub there. sometimes he rubs her down with 2 hands. other times he scratches the square between the silhouette of her bra straps or takes his pencil to do the task.

ewww.

and she's just as bad. 

she lovingly grabs his shoe, or puts her hand up by her shoulder so they can clasp hands awkwardly while in class.

it's only 50 minutes people! 

i do believe your hormones can calm down for that small window of time. 

when the professor says, "men, sometimes you just need to hold her"
she turns around with googly eyes and a sly smile to whisper, "you're good at holding me"
and he protests.
and she protests back.
and then they're just smiling.
and you want to vomit.

it is terribly distracting.

fortunately, i have the class with my married friend ajo. and so, we laugh about their ridiculous unnatural displays of pda and write comments about how gross they are, along with sketches of voldermort.

because, that is quite fitting.

cardigan compliments, or the lack thereof

"modest is hottest"

really?

then why do men still oogle over boobs and thighs, midrifs and any form of scandalous skin exposure?!

*there seems to be a disconnect in boys attitudes and actions *

i've never been dubbed as "risque" since i pride myself on keeping the skin decently covered. 

but, may i point out, that i have great legs.
people have said they would kill for these babies.  frankly, i don't see their appeal, but the boys sure do like 'em.

i get comments when my jeans are tight or i'm out to sunbathe. 

sometimes,
 i just wanna show them off!

but... being mormon, i sacrifice this desire.  for the greater good-- so men won't be tempted or something like that.
plus i "respect" my body.

men don't  quite understand the inconvenience of modesty. when the dresses are too short and all the shirts too low, you must make do and improvise-- which typically is not the most fashionable.
sure, i could look like pamela anderson (minus the boobs) easily and for a whole lot less cash, but... if you're not a slut, don't dress like a whore.

all my years i have been fed the potentially true line: "modest is hottest".
now i really wonder, is it?

is modest hottest?

 because, {as ali said}
"you never get compliments when you're wearing a cardigan"

..............................................................

think on that, for a while.

it would be so great if boys noticed modesty rather than spandex.   

it would give more incentive to stay modest.

 which leads to this dilemma of mine:

what should i be for halloween?

because nothing is compatible with modesty. and this year, it might be nice to be noticed.

i'm thinking this
or this
or this
or perhaps even this.

it is even worth it to de-skankify the costumes?

not to worry,
i will wear a shade shirt, leggings, or something to cover up the astronomical amount of skin that would show with any of those costumes, but still...

it makes me wonder if men actually appreciate modesty when they only notice the immodest.

apostrophes

i had an epiphany. or as my friend calls it, an "apostrophe".

it came during class. this week i've actually been trying to apply what i learn to my own life. crazy, i know.

apostrophe #1

forgiveness does not equal trust.

i felt that by withholding my trust, i was impeding my own mercy. but this is not so. 

i have forgiven mr. practical brown shoe and i have forgiven gum stealer. i have forgiven many people and let the past go. but i can never lend my fragile trust into their destructive hands again.
that would just be idiotic.

i feel justified that my religion teacher wrote upon the board,

"forgiveness does not equal trust"

there's some sort of backing by God in that.

apostophe #2

there are egoists. and there are altruists.

of course, everyone prefers to be the later. but, everyone is the former, at one point in time or another.  

what really matters is how you view others. 

i discovered that i {shameful as it may be} view just about every male upon the planet as an egoist. just in it for the thrill. hit it and quit it. use and abuse. 

and then when they're done with you, they upgrade to the next best cell phone. because, that's what girls are to them-- tools for their own self-gratification.

i am aware this sounds... harsh. but... given my {recent} history, it's not surprising i feel this way at times. 

the problem occurs when you meet an altruist. they rub your feet and do your dishes and love you like there's no tomorrow. they love you for you. not because you give heavenly head massages and not because you're the world's best kisser (although, those are definitely perks) but because it makes you happy. even if they did not receive a single peck, they would love you just to see you smile.

when an altruist loves you, you keep waiting for their hedonistic nature to spring forth and burst your bubble of bliss. but, they're an altruist. and they're just about perfect... 

the world needs more altruists, damn it. 

the green plaid couple

i saw several things today which disturbed me and struck a chord of annoyance.

not that they impacted my day tremendously, but upon observing i was nauseous for a time.

first off:
the green plaid couple
they're in one of my classes-- both wore green plaid. not the same pattern but... still. we're in college, people. that was quirky. what i found unnerving was that he extended his arm across the aisle to grasp her arm awkwardly for nearly the entire 2 hour class period. occasionally she would have to re-situate herself to accommodate the foreign object in her desk space to be able to write.
dude, i know you love her and she's probably in line to be your next mrs., but you can lay off touching her for 2 hours.

next:
nose blowers.
i recognize that cold and flu season is upon us, but please-- if you're going to blow your nose loudly, go out into the hall so my ear drums are not punctured and the professor drown out. if you're the quiet sniffler, just discretely blow your nose rather than timidly sniffling for over an hour. just hearing the amount of snot the nose blower is snuffing out or sniffling back in really really grosses me out.
and most importantly, after you blow your nose, do not look at the contents inside your tissue-- especially when you sit in front of me and i catch a frontal view as well.

the best:
eraser
as i let my eyes wander during class, they settled upon an attractive man. what came next... well, i was not expecting it, and the deed took his attractiveness award down substantially.
sticking the eraser of his mechanical pencil inside his ear, he wiggled it around, removed the pencil, and after a glance, wiped the excess earwax on the desk. 
no. that did not just happen!
but it did.

i plead that individuals refrain from doing repugnant actions, because people like me are innocent bystanders.

please and thank you. 

everything

day 12: a song that makes you fall asleep

*i might have mixed up my days, skipping this one by accident. 

everything by lifehouse.

it makes me feel warm and safe and happy inside-- perfect conditions for sleep.

i recommend this video. the song is set to scenes from the notebook.
 only thing is, it's a little risque for about 20 seconds. the other 6 minutes are adorable happiness.

swing life away

day 11: a song from a band you hate

so, this band is scary. like, legit screaming and other things which i do not allow my ears to take in.
but somehow this frightening band whipped out this baby, a great chill song that reminds you life is easy and great.

i love it, and thank them for it.

happiness

day 10: a song from your favorite band

if i could marry any music artist, it would be isaac slade {the fray}. not that he's the cutest, per se. if we're going for attractiveness, usher's abs could seduce me to marriage. but isaac... he is a musical angel. if he was my husband, he would serenade me all the time. because not only does he sing, but he plays the guitar, piano, and drums. 

mmmmmmmm yes.

i love the fray. prior to my ingrid days, they were #1. they're still in the ranking but ingrid, frankly, trumps all.

i have all their albums and just about every live song ever recorded. 

favorites:

how to save a life

look after you

never say never

and

happiness.

one october afternoon, isaac serenaded me in msteamy {my toyota corolla} with  "happiness". his happiness brought sadness as i rounded the road onto 9th east.

the tears started welling when i caught the temple in my left peripheral; the flood gates opened when i realized what was on my right.

i wish i could say i was stronger, that i kept driving. 

but
i started crying so hard {while driving} that cars became blurry.  i swerved into the parking lot across the street, threw my car into park, and sobbed. and sobbed. and sobbed.

happiness feels a lot like sorrow 

let it be, you can't make it come or go 

but you are gone- not for good but for now 

gone for now feels a lot like gone for good 

last night, my friend serenaded me with happiness. both the song and the emotion.

and although life is not perfect and quite hectic and complicated, 

i am happy.
this september seems like an eternity away from that october afternoon. 

happiness is like the old man told me 
look for it, but you'll never find it all 

let it go, live your life and leave it 

then one day, wake up and she'll be home. 

  

dynamite

day 9: a song that you can dance to

i can dance to any song. not well, mind you, but i can shift my hips from side to side, step back and forth, snap my fingers, gesture with my arms, or maybe even bob my head as i sing along.

not so much provocative. more bordering silly. 

and i am okay with that. because dancing is a hoot of fun.

i took dance {jazz and ballet} for a long time, so i have some sort of soft grace inherent in my movement. i still point my toes and when i run, it's on tiptoe. i sashay through my apartment and even do a whirl when i'm alone, a pirouette or fuette to bring back the dizziness of a thing i once loved.

i quit, this thing that i loved. i was 15 and couldn't handle the pressures of the dancing world-- older girls in my class and my apparent naivety, my instructors' demands of perfection, seeing my muscular non-dancer frame in 360 degrees of mirrors.

i was good. turning and leaping and spotting. but i could not keep giving my all to something that was stretching me much too far, past the point of pain.

it was when i broke down in the car, outside the dance studio, begging my mom to not make me go inside to perform our jazz routine for the umteenth time that, she knew. she knew it was sapping the happiness it had once given me.
and so we drove away.

i drove away from classes and recitals. from leotards and tights, jazz shoes and buns.

i miss it, still. after i watch center stage or step up i remember that i could do something close to that. i was nowhere near professional but i knew how to control my body, to order it's position both in the air and back in the realm of gravity.

instead of twirling in a tutu, i dance wherever, finding freedom in music. 

so, a song i can dance to is anything. but for today, we'll go with

dynamite

by taio cruz

(music video has scantily clad woman, hence the no post)

parachute

day 8: a song that you know all the words to

this day proposes a dilemma. when i really love a song, i listen to it. repeatedly. for hours or days or weeks. so naturally, with such repetition, i know all the words.

i have loved and subsequently become obsessed with countless songs.

therefore, to depart from the confusion of the multitude of songs which lyrics resound in my brain, i shall share my newest obsession {which i have listened to repeatedly until the lyrics are second nature}:

parachute by ingrid

it is a gem.

soul craving

i do believe head scratches are therapeutic.

as well as back massages and being held close.

sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing beyond discussing the deep opinions you didn't even know you had, for the first time in such a long time...

that is what i did tonight. 

and it was marvelously wonderful, to feel connected to another human being on a much deeper level than everyday superficial nonsense. 

satisfying a long dismissed soul craving brings a contentment

no chocolate or french fries can impersonate. 

with or without you

day 7: a song that reminds you of a certain event

i have listened to this song oodles of times. sometimes on repeat. my brother indoctrinated me with a love for U2. in the eighth grade i determined it was my favorite song. this was a well-known fact among my wonderful group of friends. in the ninth grade when i was finally able to attend stake dances {oh, the coveted activities of 14 year old mormons} my best friend brittany and i raced up to the dj to request my favorite song. 

after the inevitable stake dance songs {i.e. blink 182's "all the small things" and the infamous "chicken dance" ( i shake my butt na na na na)} the soft base intro of U2 rose my hopes and joshua's nerve to ask me to dance. 

as we were shuffling our feet with distance enough for several book of mormons, he said, with a smile,

"you know, i requested this song for you, because i know it's your favorite"

my heart was already racing from dancing with the josh, so much so that the blood flow to my brain could not inhibit my blank reply of, 

"no you didn't. brittany and i did"

HAH!

 potentially one of the greatest awkward moments of my life!

he coughed to cover his mischievous line and we kept dancing. and despite our awkward 14 years i had a fondness grow for him in that moment to paramount my former baby crush. 

ironically, it is this song that best articulates the history of josh and i.

a few months after our memorable dancing escapade, we officially liked one another. heck, we even held hands! i quickly fell as much in love as a teenager girl could. when he "broke up" with me in an email 6 months later, i was devastated. 

over many years that fondness remained. it would momentarily be replaced by undeniable frustration but i always yearned for more than what friendship allotted. eventually, the teenage-love took on a new dimension as we grew into adults. i always thought we would end up together.

...that is...

until a twist of fate introduced his cousin into my life.

whom i subsequently fell in love with. but this was not a fickle teenage love of games and silence.  

love. real and true and magical and cliche as any hallmark card could convey.

i can live with or without josh. 

it's the cousin that i'm still learning how to manage without. 

*i'm not a huge smallville person, but this video has tom welling. 

and kissing.

and, well, who doesn't love that?!

plus it beats U2's video... sorry, bono.

hear you me

day 6: a song that reminds you of somewhere

this song reminds me, on the whole, of high school.

the most specific vivid memory surfaces of me "sluffing" (skipping class for you non-utahn folk) with a boy.

as i recall, i was sluffing math. it was a review day of the test we had just taken, and honestly, i wasn't ever going to use (and i still have not) that stuff again so why bother when a cute boy invited me to run away with him?... just for 3rd period. granted.

there we sat, on rich green grass in the may sunshine, reclined on the gradual slope of storm mountain park. his guitar graced his arms as he strummed and sang to me my favorite song. because he knew it was my favorite. and chemistry abounded in the air between us. his voice was like butter on a hot roll, melting me inside out.

it was then i decided that the act of serenading is the most seductive.

a week or so later we held hands. and then he got back together with his ex-girlfriend.

amidst the heartache of a sixteen year old girl, i was serenaded by a deep voice and warm eyes that wisp through my conscious whenever i pass by that old park {incidently, the location of my first (rape) kiss a few months later with a different boy} or hear jimmy eat world's best song.

*forgive the video. by that i mean, enjoy the song and chad michael murray but disregard hillary duff. this movie was also very high school.

sip of love

i had a little sip of love* {to fill in my cracks}
*affectionate cuddling, if you will

 already the smooth luster of hydration is giving way. chips and infinitesimal cracks are spreading as the ounce of love evaporates.
 
i can't help but feel that a big gulp of love would do well to hold me over, until i come to the watering hole.
and who doesn't love to be quenched by love?

inevitably, i'll be thirsty again.

so, i ask, is it better to be eternally and ignorantly parched and never taste of love?

or should i give in to a drip here and another drip there to be reminded of my thirst? 

the science experiment on happiness

i'm doing an experiment on happiness.

not for class

or work

or men

but

for me.

part 1 of science experiment on happiness:
let things go, completely.
turn it over to the big man upstairs.

i thought i could give 100% at work, 

and another 100% at school, 

and just a small 100% being social,

and of course, 

100% becoming the good mormon girl i can be. 

400%, my friends, is not feasible for a 21 year old girl.

so i'll punch in at work and work. really hard. and do all i can do. but when the clock strikes home, i am done answering managers' demands. 
and then i'll go to school. and study. really hard. i'll actually try learning the difference between ionotropic and metabotropic receptors, and understand the dichotomies at play in the psychological realm, and memorize tips to use in crucial conversations. and when it comes time to write a paper or study for a test, i will somehow manage.
and on the weekends, i will be as social of a butterfly as my cocoon will allow. some weekends there will be much more fluttering than others.

at the end of the day or week, i will pray for strength to do it all again tomorrow.

others' expectations have too long plauged my stress level. 

so i'm saying, "to hell with it all!"
i'm erasing my expectations. and accepting that others' expectations don't matter.
by the end of the day i'll have given 100% of myself. that's all i can offer.

part 2 of science experiment on happiness:

get some.

because, as audrey hepburn put it,

"i believe in kissing, kissing a lot".

and i have not done that in much too long.

good day

day 5: a song that reminds you of someone

yesteryear i had a dream.

it was a music video dream. i woke up laughing.

to this day, when i hear this song i have a vivid flashback of a specific part in my dream.

picture this:

as luce sings,

"and i go to work with my friend dan painting houses the best we can"

my brother-in-law, dan {pictured below}, who is dressed in a white painters outfit and a paint brush in hand, jumps off the steps of a snazzy apartment complex with arms raised and a big 'ol smile.

it gets me every time!


oh man. if you could only glimpse the entertainment my subconscious grants me...

enjoy the song.

"i'm looking forward to tomorrow to have a pretty good day"

shoe shopping {revised}

i am a barefoot girl. 

shoes really aren’t my thing. my sister concocted a metaphor, which i find very "fitting" and have come to embody as my personal belief and philosophy on the matter: 

dating is like shoe shopping.

 

 

the joyous bliss of bare feet

freedom. 

oh, sweet freedom. 

no obligation, no infringement on personal space, being able to experience life without hindrance of . . . a shoe. of course i’m talking about walking barefoot on cool summer night pavement, squishing your toes in wet grass, sinking into warm golden sand as salty sea water rushes up to meet your sun-tanned legs… glorious. beyond description gloriousness. perhaps the embodiment of gloriousness.

do you know what else is glorious? 

the single life.

yes. we moan and complain after watching “pride & prejudice” about how miserable we are without our own mr. darcy, but until you find that mcdreamy, mcsteamy, prince charming, or even a potential candidate to fill that role of “leading man” in your life, the single life is fabulous!

ah… the single life: you don’t need to “check” with someone else if it’s okay to go out with your girls; you don’t have to consider someone else’s delicate feelings; you don’t have to worry over dtr’s, break-ups, jealous tension, or fighting over silly inconsequential things. it never crosses your mind the consequences of your actions painting the town, flirting, or sitting at home reading a book because that is in fact what you would prefer to do over spending time with a tool of a shoe. 


single life is luscious liberty, the independence of bare feet hanging out the open window...

dating is like shoe shopping. period. 


although (hypothetically) you can’t run around your entire life with naked feet, it sure is phenomenal and may as well be enjoyed.

the perfect fit

 cinderella’s glass slipper denotes much more than a reconnection with her missing shoe—it signifies the “PeRFeCT FiT” of her with prince charming. that fragile slipper went on dozens, if not hundreds, of feet around the kingdom and ultimately was discovered to only fit cinderella. and they lived happily ever after. 

and such is dating.  

we are shoe shopping. 

you’re not committing to buy that pair of shoes you’ve been wearing for a week. some shoes you slip on for various reasons (which i will further detail below in the sub categories), others you try on because your feet are cold, some you try on for no reason at all. if the fit isn’t right, it’s okay! that’s why you shoe shop—to try on a pair, perhaps walk a few baby steps or a few hundred miles before kindly slipping them off and looking for a better fit. there’s nothing wrong with your foot or the shoe—everyone is unique requiring their own “perfect fit”. just keep browsing, have faith that one day you will find a better-fitting shoe more custom to your taste, and that that discarded shoe will be just fine.

some days you get that itch to go shoe shopping and it’s exhilarating and wonderful; trying on a pair brings bliss, joy, pure contentment, and is quite fun. other days your feet ache and you want to throw any pair of shoes you come across into the trash compactor.

life is obviously not a fairy tale. some speculate on the existence of "sole-mates" and i myself know it is perfectly plausible to be content with varying shoes, that you can make things work and live a good happy life… But really? Isn’t everyone hoping that prince charming will kneel before them to offer the “perfect fit”?  


i believe there is one person out there who can make you HaPPieR than all the rest, one shoe that fits your foot as near to perfection as possible, who offers support and enhances the spring in your step, one shoe you can wear rain or shine and be gloriously comfortable with, that you are devoted to and can’t imagine life without, one shoe you LoVe for all the little details of the stitching and imperfections, and who loves you back.

who doesn’t deserve to “sing with rapture and dance like a dervish… to be deliriously happy”?!? settling for a mediocre fit you can “deal” with because it’s at the department store or was “on sale” is really only selling yourself short. outside of this metaphor there really aren’t any “returns” without much heartache. it’s better to wear out those shoes in the store rather than take them home too early and have “buyer’s remorse”.

that perfect fit is out there, for me, for you, for everyone, and though it may take many a shoe-trial to find, you’ll be glad you did. when you finally do it makes tying on all the other terrible smelly horrendous mis-fitting shoes worth it. 

the not-so-perfect fit

one look can tell you a lot about a shoe: color, material, support system, shoe size... but it must be remembered while shoe shopping that first impressions are not always accurate and can sway you from the truth of the shoe because it's "so cute", "will totally match that outfit I've been dying to wear", and "looks pretty sturdy". there are those appealing shoes, but along with them comes the instinctual feeling that the size does not match. 


shoe shoppers in desperation may still wedge their toes into the too-small shoe or pad the toes of a too-big shoe in an attempt to counterfeit a "perfect fit"... but they're only fooling themselves and, sometimes, even the shoe. no good comes of pretending to be something you're not or thinking you can change that shoe to fit your pretty toes. 


eventually the blisters appear or the shoe slips off and WHooPS! time to haul that pair to d.i.

the flip flop

 convenient. temporary. fun. 

the fit is loose, easy, and carefree- not constraining in the least.  

it allows you to display that new pedicure, still feel the sun on your toes and the jolting chill of the sprinkler whizzing past.  although it’s not the sturdiest of shoes and you both know that after the season there will be holes in the sole from daily wear, it’s okay.  because the sun is shining, time is flying, and that flip flop is molding right to your foot in a comfortable casual way. 


when the leaves begin to change, signaling its time to slip out of that flip flop, no big deal.  you’ll still have the flip-flop tan lines and occasionally reminisce longingly about that almost-barefoot but still-have-a-shoe feeling… but then... you’re over it.

so many colors, so little time…and all fit about the same.  

true, it’s impractical to wear that flip flop to trek through 3 feet of snow but during those hot humid days and fresh calm nights, nothing fits better.

the practical brown shoe

what’s another word for practical??? let’s think, oh yes, booorrrring! yeah we get that you’ll last a lifetime and are a heap a sturdy, that you would “never hurt” our poor feet but really—all you are is boring.  the whole, “it’s not you, it’s me” thing reeaaalllly doesn’t apply here. 


because it is you. 


mr. practical brown shoe, you are driving me past the point of sanity. really, id rather lock myself up in a nunnery than be with you.  harsh, i know, but you’re the one who wants to be “open and honest”.  


so in my candid attempt at a shoe-trial, when i tell you it’s too tight of a fit what do you do?  you pull the laces tighter.  i tell you you’re molding to my foot too fast and are giving me blisters-- what do you do?  you just keep on suffocating, molding, and say its all because you love me.  *gasp* hold the phone-- WHaT?!? uh... may I call bs?  suggest the very real fact that you’re CRaZY? i do apologize you’re so brown and clunky, but honestly, i can’t help the fact that you repulse me, that i find your fit unnerving and devastatingly dull. 

so, mr. practical brown shoe, i must say that although our little shoe-trial only lasted half a second, you’ve given me a headache and have forced me to implement a restraining order on all resembling practical brown shoes.  
...and yet-- you sit on the lowly shelf pitifully defeated and sad with your toes turned in and your laces droopy, mocking and blaming me for how my feet were made when really…YOU were the one who didn’t listen, who tried to force a fit.  and if, just supposing the possibility that you could step outside your immature 3-year-old tantrum filled with endless "whys" and "what was I to you?", you'd come to realize that  in actuality saved you much heartache by chucking you back into your box that you so “charmingly” sprung open.


so, goodbye mr. practical brown shoe, it’s just not gonna work out.  

the high heel

simply irresistible. plus gorgeous beyond imagination or description. 

temptation to indulge is much too overpowering to think logically.  you don’t just want them, you need them.  the instant your eyes laid hold of those stunning sexy stilettos, you were hooked.  

fashion before function. 

what, exactly, lures us into the high-heel department to fling open the decorative box and whisk away the delicate tissue to unveil untold beauty? i believe we all have an achilles heel in reference to high heel shopping-- that one pair that makes you weak in the knees: 

shimmery, exotic, bold, frilly, brazen, darling, flirty, silky, bodacious, heart-stopping.

but aside from bows and ruffles of a perfectly contoured heel, this applies to the many types and characteristics of men we fall for:

rugged. sensitive. charismatic. shy. hollywood smile. rebellious. kind. intellectual. mcdreamy hair. flirtatious. protective. talkative. long eyelashes. seductive. strong hands. 

yes, please. 

unfortunately, practicality goes out the window with our desire to have our shoe match the perfectly planned outfit. or sometimes we arrange our outfit around the shoe. there is one girl in a million who can wear high heels every day. maybe we can be that girl… but when the blisters of miscommunication and frustration bubble up, the need for pain killers kicks our resolve to strut our stuff, and we throw out our manicured perfection for the bliss of bare feet or comfort of slippers.

the slipper

they’re always there, waiting for you in the early morning and late-night hours. cozy and warm, they conform to your feet with time and prove sturdy wash after wash. sometimes that worn-in feel of a good friend turns out to be your perfect fit. there's only one way to find out.

the parting advice 

from one who has tried on 

all types of shoes:

each of these shoes have been taken from the box, examined, and even worn for a variable amount of time. 

trust me, i know how easy it is to become discouraged after seemingly endless shoe-trials, but i recommend that instead of lamenting your naked singlehood, run around barefoot, enjoy the momentary flip flop, beware of the suffocating practical brown shoe, indulge in the provacative high heel, and snuggle up to the comfortable slipper.

the perfect fit will come.   

one shoe at a time. 

transatlanticism

day 4: a song that makes you sad

this song makes me solemn. not so much melancholy, but pensive. about the past.

depending on the day, it can make my heart hurt, too.

i have my private reasons for the sadness this song brings me.
i use to love it.

i still do, but not in the same way.

it reminds me of emptiness. 

"i need you so much closer"

a schedule not compliant with sanity

this is me.

or more aptly, what i feel.
comical? yes. heavens yes. i love this picture.
but, in placing myself in that tube my perspective of the near future is blocked and the present is whipping past in my peripheral.

so, why did i place myself in that tube? because it will be fun. and although my schedule for the next 4 months necessitated creating an excel spreadsheet {something i do not do, ever}, at the end of it i will be closer to goals of graduation and maintaining some independence.

in this adorable color-coded excel spreadsheet that i have created, there are very few open cells {meaning, free from behavioral neurobiology or home depot or organizational psychology or home depot or church or home depot or...} where i must do necessary things like shower, eat, potentially cook and grocery shop so i can eat, do laundry, accomplish an inordinate amount of reading for above mentioned classes...

shaving the legs is a luxury for saturday mornings {my one day of glorious nothingness} and sleep is, w e l l, sadly, slipping from the the list of "necessities" down to the ever-growing compilation of "luxuries". alas.

that's what you get for working 30 hours a week and taking 12 credits of pure psychological upper division madness. and call me CRaZY but i'm attempting to maintain a social life, too.

it will be fun. i must remember that.

blogging helps me keep some sanity intact. with any luck {and a whole lot of prayes and power naps} i should still be recognizable as human when december whisks in. hopefully.

king of anything

day 3: a song that makes you happy

it first started with "love song"-- emancipation for the worn down girl. "i'm trying to let you hear me as i am"
and now this from the lovely and talented sarah?
it is pure wonder.
i can be in the foulest of moods and after singing the chorus with gusto i am ready to champion my independence and plunge my flag of ownership into happiness.
the beat is so jazzy and she's so sassy. a perfect combo for lifting spirits.

*side note: this song is currently my ringtone, but viewed objectively it is perhaps not the smartest decision. you see, when i hear it i want to sing. therefore, i either sing along until the person leaves a message or i answer the phone singing, both of which are frankly embarrassing, and neither of which circumstance justify any excuse besides the fact that this song makes me happy.
but...
who cares if you disagree?