YAY! I complete my bachelor's degree in one week! Sound the trumpets!

Me a month ago:

I'm graduating soon.

Psh!  SO WHAT?!
Thank the heavens above it's finally here.

Feels like I should have graduated FIFTY years ago!

Now I'm going to finally be treated like an adult!


Me today:

Welp, I graduate in a week.

Hmmmm, ok. 

That's cool that I won't be stressed over homework and stuff.

I won't have to deal with annoying people.

But I'm really going to miss my friends and my boyfriend.

Yeah, now I have to go get a job.  I have to start paying loan bills.  I have to move back in with my parents.  I have to live far away from friends I used to live in the same building with, and I can't walk to everywhere anymore.

Hmmmm, ok.

I actually really like learning.  I'm going to miss classes and homework and papers.  I'll miss projects and studying and group work.  I'm going to miss intellectual discussion and helpful professors around all the time.

Why did I complain about all this so much?

At least I won't have to live in a crowded, lonely, small, cold, messy room.  Oh wait... that's what my room at home is like.

At least my supportive family and snuggly dog will be there!  But even they get on my nerves sometimes.

At least I can have better food!  But it won't be readily available to me, with lots of variety, cooked, and served to me with a smile at any moment I'd like.

Why must everything have pros and cons?  Or maybe, it should just be my perspectives that shift.  Instead, every time I face change (or dwell in boring familiarity), I always seem to find the cons, and fixate on them.

Maybe, I should just look on the bright side and accept change with the inner strength of a WARRIOR WOMAN ready to prowl for success in any situation she is handed!

But, instead, I always seem to avoid the scariness of life with jokes, food, or even naps.  I like napping.  I like eating.  I like laughing.

IDEAS FOR WHAT TO DO WHEN I GET HOME FROM COLLEGE AND HAVE TO BE AN ADULT:

1)  Create food masterpieces without making the kitchen too much of a mess so I don't have to clean much!  A challenge fit for a high-stakes reality TV show!

2)  Take a bath.  NO.  Take a bubble bath.  I'm also going to play in the water with toys like I did when I was little, giving the toys different voices and epic stories like the Barbie who needed her Ken doll to go to the moon to get a chemical that could cure her ridiculously rare and obscure disease.  (I'm not joking... I remember creating this when I was in elementary.)

3)  Write a song.  Yeah, I've done this sooooo many times, but THIS one will really be good!  And, I won't lose the paper I write it on.  Genius.

4)  Get up to the sun shining.  Do my eyebrows.  Take a long, luxurious shower.  Shave.  Do a face mask.  Lotion entire body.  Practice make up tricks learned on youtube.  Secretly spray oneself with mother's perfume.  Do toenails and fingernails fancily.  Pick out a new outfit combination.  Try to walk in heels.  Do hair laboriously with FIFTY different hair products to protect it until nearly happy with it (I'll never be completely happy with my hair).  Dance around in front of mirror.  Practice British accent.  Reapply makeup as it has probably faded already by now.  Then take it all off, take another shower, and go to sleep because I'm wore out by now.

5)  Write a novel.  About something that makes absolutely no sense.  But I trick everyone into thinking it makes sense.  And THEN, when they try to make a movie of it, everyone realizes just how incredibly ridiculous it is and also, how persuasive words are and how much cooler books are than movies.  MUHAHAHAHAHAHA.

6)  Solve a mystery.  I've always wanted to do this.  Next stop, mysterious woods behind house!  [Looks at creepy woods where I saw blanket and tent at before and heard noises.]  Meh, maybe I'll just watch Sherlock again...

7)  Make some money by creating something!  I've always wanted to make my own livelihood by using my own creativity.  I need to invent something!  Or make some sort of artwork!  Hmmm... I'll take a photography class!  But then, I'd have to go back to school......

8)  Set a world record.  Maybe I could make a name for myself this way!  What about woman with most loan interest?  Or woman who cries herself to sleep the most?  Or, no I've got it!  Woman with most time spent on internet!  [Pathetic violin music.]

9)  Go live in a cabin alone in the woods.  This is a recurring theme in literature, so it has to be good!

10)  Do other people's homework for them.  I think this sounds kind of fun.  Kind of immoral, but still kind of fun.  As long as there's money involved.

[By the way, if you could not tell yet, all of these ideas are completely sarcastic.  I know that I will get a job eventually and this next step in my life will go more smoothly than I imagine.  I trust in God and I trust in the hard work I have done myself these past four and a half years.  It's just funny to write in our own moments of fear.  I've found it to be absolutely true that humor is just relating to other people in exagerrated ways.]

Here.  Have a puppy picture.

 

Awwwwwwwwwwwww.  MUST.  CUDDLE.  PUPPY.  >:)

 

Things I Just Don't Understand

Simply put, these are things I just don't understand. 

Rate or comment!


1)  Why do girls automatically hate any other girl that seems to have a happy moment?  Do we not ever have happy moments ourselves to satisfy us?  Besides, don't we understand that those girls most likely are just as insecure as we are?  Just accept your own happiness.

2)  How does the garbage can get full so quickly?  Seriously.  I buy a larger garbage can but it seems to need taken out even more than the last one.

3)  Why does the "Elmo's World" song get in my head all the time?  I've never even watched that show.

4)  Why are some of the ugliest clothing items the most expensive?  Cream-colored, oversized, camoflauge-lined, scratchy sweater with sequins, buttons, and zippers in impractical places?-- Sure let me get out my credit card so I can buy one for every day of the week.

5)  Why do guys expect girls to get ready as quickly as they do?  We use more shower products, shave more areas, wear more clothing items, we pluck our eyebrows, apply various different types of makeup, and if we have long, naturally curly hair-- there's no way we're going to brush it and go.  Oh, you like what my hair looks like completely natural?  How did you get ahold of my middle school pictures? 
Lord knows my hair hasn't been without products since before I watched "The Princess Diaries."

6)  Along those same lines, hair brushes are not magic.  Eyeliner is not magic.  Every beauty product unfortunately has to be used with another one.  So don't get excited.

7)  Why do I grind my teeth at night?  And don't say stress-- I know fully well that I'm stressed.  But what exactly is going on in my mind that makes it seem like a perfectly great idea to scrape my teeth on each other until it hurts-- and makes that awful noise that makes me want to run my fingers down a chalkboard just for relief?  Anything but that!

8)  Why buy something just because it's cheap?  It's going to end up on the bottom of your closet floor, and you only wear about 15 different outfits over and over anyways.  Bargains are simply awesome... if they happen to be attached to something you need.

9)  Why is cleaning so awful?  It gives me a better environment to live in.  I can be more productive in a clean room.  I absolutely love being in a clean room.  I don't like stealing plastic utensils as gnats cover my used utensils I haven't washed in three weeks. 
Sometimes cleaning is a stress relief, even! 
And why do I only clean when I have to do something else?  Or when someone comes over and is sitting on a clothes-covered dorm chair?  Why is it the seemingly biggest tragedy in the world to put away laundry I just washed?

10)  Why is TV so awful?  I'm not even going to go there.  I could get my Ph.D. in Television Degradation. 

11)  Why do people argue over absolutely EVERYTHING?  Why do we have to have only Republicans and Democrats?  Why does only one view have to be the all-encompassing truth?  What if neither are true?  What if a little bit of both are true?  How the heck will we ever know the absolute truth?  Why do we hate people with other views like its a sport and we're training for the olympic event in that sport?  Why do we not even realize that we are hating?

12)  Why can't I ever get away with a prank or a joke?  I couldn't lie to save my life.  I blush and quiver and smile and giggle.   
Isn't there a story about a president and a tree and the line "I cannot tell a lie"...?  (Wow, A.D.D. moment).

13)  Why do we kiss?  I mean, have you ever thought of the first kiss moment... how did they figure that out?  Oh, well we eat with our mouths and talk with mouths, so we might as well slap them together and see what other great things can come about!

14)  Was Black Friday created so people would be out and about all sweaty, nervous, competitive, and physical in order to cancel out their Thanksgiving Day weight gain?  Hmmmmmm.

15)  Why are conspiracy theories so cool?

16)  Why are murder mysteries so cool?

17)  Why was every single thing in the entire world so scary when I was little?

18)  Why is every single thing in the entire world so scary now?

19)  Wherefore art Shakespeare teacheth so often in adolescent education?  I may be an English teacher or professor someday but so help me God, I do not want to teach Shakespeare.

20)  Why do so many girls love cheesy romantic comedies?  There's so much I could say.  Maybe I'll leave that for another blog.

21)  Why do restaurants give you so much ice?  I want to taste my drink, not a watered down version of my drink.  I also would rather not have ice come up and smack me in the face.

22)  Why do guys think aggression makes them masculine and showing emotions makes them feminine?

23)  Why are muffins so bad for you?  They taste like the healthier version of a cupcake, but they aren't.  Muffins are deceptive liars!  Well, that was redundantly repetitive.  ;)

24)  Why do I always seem to think that there are more than 24 hours in a day that day?

25)  Why do I think I can change the outcome in a movie if I pay attention really well and hope that the character doesn't make the wrong choice that they made the last time I watched it.

26)  Why do we take pictures of absolutely everything?  I am so guilty of this.  Sometimes I miss real life moments on a trip because I am looking at the LCD screen of the camera.

27)  Why does it feel like a threat to our survival when we talk to someone and they don't hear us and answer?  Everyone around you has had that happen to them, too!  They don't want to kill you and take off with your liver just because you were accidentally ignored.

28)  Why do people take out their anger on their most precious items?  Darn you, game!  It's your fault that I lost this round even though you are completely unbiased and I just didn't do well because I've been playing this game for six hours and I'm tired.  I will throw this controller against the wall and then jump on it until it is in 374 pieces.  That'll teach you to think twice about hurting my pride!  Oh wait.

29)  Why am I writing this?

30)  Why is the word "why" spelled w-h-y?

Hope you enjoyed.  :)  Give me ideas for another blog!!!

What the World Needs Now

What the world really needs is more selflessness.

More people who find it difficult to stand up for themselves, even.

Because then, there would be no NEED for justification, defensiveness, or putting your guard up to make sure you're not hurt or walked on.

There would be no need for lawyers, and therefore there would be less of the crooked lawyers out there.

There would be less need for counseling.

There would be less need out there in general.


What the world needs is a shift from the "what can the world do for me" to the "what can I do for the world."

This attitude of perceived need is often justified, but sometimes, we have to just pick up our brokennes, realize it could be worse, and do what we have to to make things better.  Even if it was not our fault. 

But ESPECIALLY if it was our fault.


Self pity is a disease.

It sinks in under clever disguises.

It can hide under jargon.

Sometimes it feels like depression.

Self pity is chronic alright, but we can treat it ourselves.

Its loyalty and usefulness can seem so real and tangible, but truly, it is a pest.  A downfall of humanity.  A disease that you pass on to your children and your children's children.


What the world needs is more keep on keeping on.  We let consequences hold us back, when sometimes consequences are there in order to teach us.  A lot of times they teach us that avoidance feels safe but is our enemy.  A lot of times they teach us (even if they are not our fault) to push forward and learn from it, becoming stronger, wiser, more resilient, and emotionally stable than before.

Oftentimes, the world is enabled in its avoidance.  This can be as emotionally detrimental as drug use.  Enablers are selfless, loyal loved ones- the way the world should be.


But then there would be a perfect world...

And who wants that?

____________________________________


Thank goodness I am in this world but not of it.

Rainy Days, Not Enough Sleep, and the Nearing of Fall Break Transform Normal Lauren into an Attempted Philosophical Lauren

COMFORT is kind of a cool word.  When you say it, listen to the tone you use.  Notice the way it makes you feel when you say it.

What is comfort?  What are its causes and effects?  Why is it so necessary?

Definitions of "comfort" from dictionary.com include, "to soothe, console, or reassure; bring cheer to," "to aid; support or encourge," "relied in affliction; solace," "a state of ease and satisfaction of bodily wants, with freedom from pain and anxiety," "a person or thing that gives consolation," or "a state of ease or well being."

Seems like a pretty good thing right?  Of course.

I feel a bit of comfort right now because my classes are over with for the day and it is now officially Fall Break in my perspective.  I'm sitting in the campus library, in sweats I bought for much cheaper from ebay, with a friend who works here at the circulation desk.

So why does the human race seem to lift up those that resist comfort?  When someone goes out of their comfort zone to do something different-- some incredible feat, artistic and novel creation, or a divergence from conformity-- we celebrate that person.  That person is catalogued, canonized, remembered, written about, used as inspiration, maybe even worshipped. 

And in between our readings of Guideposts, or Chicken Soup for the Soul, we find an addiction to comfort.  We "awwwww" over the feats of others that go out of their comfort zone as we lay on our couch with a cup of hot chocolate, with no plans of our own trips outside of our Comfort Zone. 

Is comfort bad?

Some use comfort to forget or erase.  A girl picks up a drug after her parents fight and her friend goes on and on about the buzz and how it settled her down, or numbed down the pain for a little while.  Comfort addictions seem hereditary.  Comfort addictions lead to long-term discomfort.    

Do we really need comfort?

Do we falsely believe that we need comfort, and then hold ourselves back from doing great things?

What would happen if we reversed our everyday inclinations towards comfort?  No more following rules and keeping silent just to avoid conflict; no more looking at the clock during class eagerly anticipating lunch or a nap; no more inner turmoil and anguish over the fact that we are a little wet from the rain, or letting other small stuff ruin entire days; no more aching over the fact that we do not have some form of comfort that another person has-- a pet, a significant other, a candy bar, drugs, or the supposed skills to do something more easily. 

We don't always need comfort as much as we think.

Or, is it that we are unaware of the comfort that is actually available to us, and that we are looking in all the wrong places?

And what is freedom?  Is it found in the comfort zone-- secluded from outside societal conformity in a place where we can push ourselves away from the resistance of others (as I have been writing about in my Departmental Honors project ), or is it found outside the comfort zone, when we push ourselves to fight the tide, resist conformity, and push forward into a new horizon called originality?  Is there, beyond this horizon, or inside this secluded room, a place where comfort is found to be innate and good?

The rain seems to have stopped outside. My friend is about done with work.  I'm tired and so I will revert to the comfort of my bed until dinnertime, forgetting this was ever written.

Sinking In: A Short Story

I've decided to write a bit.  I'm not sure if it will come out a short story, fragmented prose, poetry prose, or what, but I am feeling like I need to write something so here goes!  Please leave me feedback!
Love and prayers,
Lauren :)

The bright blue sky surrounded Bryan's home like he was a gold fish and the sky was the inside of his fishbowl... minus the algae.  He sat alone in his backyard, on his hard, plastic chair with its floppy, tore up arm and looked up at the sky.

It's too pretty looking, he thought.  Gotta be something sinister at work.
And that was Bryan.  

Bryan's wife, Naomi had left almost three weeks ago after he accidentally threw an olive oil bottle at her.  Well, Bryan told himself it was an accident, but really, how could it have been anywhere near involuntary?  Naomi was cooking her weekly spaghetti when she, as usual, asked him to go to the soup kitchen to volunteer with her as she had every Wednesday night for the past fifteen years.  Bryan lost his temper and told her no for the "billionth time" and the usual argument ensued, with divergences in subject, frivolity, regrets, and emotional entanglements; before he could fully realize that reality and what was playing out in his mind had fully synched, the bottle was in his hand, he had thrown it in attempt to simply sail it past her, and his shaking, emotional hands had thrown a curveball at her shoulder instead of a fastball at the sturdy wall, turned backstop.

Bryan was bitter, but nostalgic and thoughtful.  He looked up at the sky thinking that if he smoked, this would be the perfect opportunity.  He puckered up, blew up his clean air at the beautiful sky slowly, relaxing on his fake buzz, and closed his eyes.  
Acting like I'm smoking-- shameful.  I've never wanted to smoke in my life.  He wrinkled his eyebrows.  She turned me crazy!

And Bryan had known all along that Naomi was crazy.  For instance, when she was picking up the pieces of the bottle, he overheard her muttering about how it was a sign from God that it had been their first wedding gift that he had broken.  
That was fifteen years ago, how could I have remembered that? he had thought.
Well, it made Naomi feel like she was looking at some concrete evidence of what was going on in her heart, and she split.  She kissed him goodbye with a sad, knowing look in her eye.  She didn't even look him in the eye with those distant eyes or say goodbye.  And he never knew where she went.  He never went to find her.  He never stopped grinding his teeth along that back filling he had gotten right before the incident happened.
You couldn't even tell there was a filling back there, he had though, and, Technology covers up all kinds of mishaps nowadays.

When Bryan was satisfied with his fresh air inhalation and was ready to go back into the dusty old house, he shook off his hat (that was already perfectly clean), and, alone, crossed the threshold.  It was about five pm he decided, and he was going to heat up a Hungry Man, appropriately titled, as he usually noted.  As the microwave hummed, Bryan meandered past the kitchen chairs and into the living room, plotting out his next move.  Actually, he was just going through the motions of looking like he was plotting his next move, because all he truly was doing was looking for the remote control and looking around the room that hadn't changed in fifteen years. 
Stale. 

When Bryan found the remote, set it strategically on his Lazyboy, and continued to just peer around his habitat, his eyes landed on the piano in the corner, startled by it as he had been many times lately.  It was old, with its pealing, light tan coating, smelled like an old church, and put a bad taste in his mouth.  It had been Naomi's, of course, and he resented that she had left it with him instead of taking it with her.  She'd taken the dog even, and had a trailer available, so why didn't she take her own piano?  He knew she had left it there just to torment him.  She had to have known that he had fallen in love with her for the first time when he had heard her playing at that club twenty years ago... and that seeing it after she left only reminded him that he had lost her.

No bother, he thought.  Plenty of fish in the sea.  

But the truth was, Bryan was 40 years old, without a wife, without children, without his dog, without even the closure of divorce papers.  And there was that "damned piano."

Bryan cleared his throat and looked up when the microwave alerted him, and drew in the smell of chewy Salisbury steak and greasy gravy.  It wasn't like her cooking. 
 
Instead of going to the kitchen right away, however, Bryan started to grow angry.  He became hot just like the plastic-like food he had prepared himself, and instead of allowing himself to cool, like he often did with his now-daily TV dinners, he sank into his heated self right away.  

Why would she leave me after one little mishap?  he boiled.  I explained exactly what happened and, as usual, she refused to listen to me.  She thinks she knows my every thought.  Thinks she has me all figured out.  Well, she doesn't.  Not even after fifteen years.  And after all I have done for that woman, now she just wants to go off in her self pity, armed with her spoon-fed ideas of women's rights and what she deserves!  Maybe Dr. Phil will do a special on her this week and she can go to the actual show instead of telling me about it each day.  He can smile his not-an-actual-doctor smile and pat her on the back, yelling at her to fight for what she supposedly deserves.  I will show her what she deserves!  She deserves a beat up piano sent to her in fragments!  Maybe that can be one of her "symbols" or "metaphors!"

With that, Bryan kicked the piano, growled, and pushed it with only shaky, passionate anger, and not strategic, thought-out strength, causing himself to fall in a counterclockwise spiral, hitting the top of his head first on the wooden piano bench and allowing himself to crumble into a fetal position on the smelly, old carpeted ground. 

"Hmmm," he moaned in a tone of equal parts confusion, anger, attitude, and poorly disguised shame.   Bits and shavings of the ancient piano's coating fell in a dust around him.

He laid on his side for a while there, not really thinking of anything.  In fact, his mind seemed to clear a bit for the first time in years, but it wasn't because he was neglecting to sink into his bitter thoughts, it was because he refused to think of the shame, hurt, and, perhaps, enlightenment he faced.  After two more minutes of nothingness, he cracked his neck both ways, slowly rose to a seated position, and brushed off the debris spit out by his ivory adorned enemy.

Bryan turned to his last resort.  Like he had as a child when he knew he could do nothing else, he spit on the piano with a mean, mean look on his face.  The meanest he could muster.  However, his face relaxed into a stupor as he watched the spit drip down the piano book, sinking into the keys where her fingers had once laid.

That's what I am, Bryan thought.  An angry child.  

When he fully realized that he had just spit on a piano, he went into the kitchen, grabbed a used rag out of the stack of dirty dishes, and wiped the piano clean.  He cleaned the spit spot and then just kept spreading the dish soap suds all over the old piano and even the book of songs that she usually played at weddings.  With the suds, he made designs, and then looked at the dust that blackened the yellow washcloth.  Something did not look right to him about what the coating and the dish soap did when they met, and he figured he was probably, as usual, doing something wrong.  He sighed and slapped the washcloth on top of the piano.  He smiled in spite of himself, with no emotion in his gray eyes, with no happiness, just straight acknowledgment of his own pathetic, character-like self.      

He sank into the cushioned bench rug.  It was like a really old couch that you just can't throw away even though it is broken and has holes and stains, because it gets to be more and more of a comfort as it ages.   He opened the song book and looked at the songs.  Many of them were classical, traditional, or just old, cheesy songs.  He chuckled that "I Put a Spell on You" had been included in her collection, because the couple that had lived on their street for approximately three months had insisted that it was the perfect song for their wedding.  Smiling was strange to him, but he slowly grew to like it.  He realized that he was not smiling from one of his own jokes at the expense of someone else's feelings, or the idiocy or strangeness he often deemed the neighbors possessed, or even from the gas the dog used to pass as Naomi would hold him.  He was laughing from something purely, positively comical: his wife singing a song about forcing someone to love you even when they're "fooling around" on you... at a wedding.

And then he realized something further, even that was making fun of someone.  Bryan scanned through his mind, searching for anything he had laughed at recently that was not at the expense of someone else.  He could not think of one incident.  He thought of when he laughed at the high voice of the man that sat in front of them at church every Sunday; he thought of when he laughed at when the lady at the city talent show sang a really bad note; he thought of when he laughed when the "no good, deserving" bank teller got punched in a robbery just because the teller had given Bryan a hard time when they were trying to close and he got to the bank late.  He thought of when he laughed at the guy across the street because he had let the grass get too high just because his loud mouth wife had finally made her last two-timing exit.

Bryan looked out the window to his left.  The grass needed cut.

The microwave beeped, reminding Bryan that it was ready for him, and he went into the kitchen to eat.  He chomped down on the food and wished for Naomi's food.  He looked at the table and wished for Naomi's cleaning.  He scraped his plastic fork against the plastic TV dinner tray, wishing he would man up and figure out that dish washer.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.  Bryan was startled, and thought, of course, at first, about Naomi.  His heart felt a shock of excitement, but then forced himself to dull down; he did not want to be too let down if it wasn't her.  He rose to his feet, ran his fingers through his thick, conditioned hair, and went to the door. 

When he opened the door, he encountered a large, bald man with a cigarette in his mouth.  Bryan blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came.

"Hey, man.  Here for ya piano?" the man's voice was like two large pieces of charcoal scraping against one another.

Two other men in white suits reading "Joe's Moving Co." and equally rough exteriors came up to the porch while grumbling to each other about the Yankees and the Cubs.  Bryan nodded at the first man, and ushered them in.

As the large men filled the small living room with their mood altering presence, Bryan cleared his throat, "So, uh, did a woman call you and set this up?"

The first man, who was older than the other two (still arguing about baseball), didn't even look at Bryan, pulling out his Marlboro with one hand and setting his other hand on the soapy piano; "I doh' know, buddy.  I just read the schedule and go where it says, ya know?"  He laughed a gruff voice.  "I guess I can check the papers and see who made the request.  You want me to do that, brother?"

Bryan nodded and looked down, actually sad that he was parting with the piano.  Upset that he had jumped to the conclusion that Naomi had left the piano on purpose.

Silly.  No, stupid.

"Okay, you got it, man.  The customer's the customer... or whatever," one of the younger men said, probably the Yankees fan.

As the young man went out to the trailer, its truck still running, the older man took the piano book and washcloth off of the piano, handing them to Bryan.

"I don't think your ex-wife wants these as a package deal or nothin'" the man smiled at Bryan trying to make light of the situation with humor, but warmth and understanding, too.

"I thought you said you didn't know if--" 

The older man interrupted, "I don't know, but that face o' yours makes me strongly suspect."

Yankee came in with a paper, reading in a voice too low for his age, "Is it Naomi Bryant?"
Bryan tensed at the sound of his wife's maiden name, and the sound of something so close to his own name, "Yeah, you guys can take it.  That's alright.  That's hers."

"Alright then, bud," the leader said, getting to work quickly.  Bryan trudged back the kitchen and the three men had the piano out before Bryan could finish his HungryMan.

When the piano was completely out of Bryan's view, the older man ran back into the house, and gave Bryan something to sign, a receipt, and a survey he could mail back and get a discount for; "But it's all paid for by yer ex wife so don't worry 'bout that," he explained.

Bryan nodded and paused, "Can you tell me where she is?  Where did the request come from?  Let me see the paper please."

The man thought a while, replying, "Well we usually don't have situations like this where the person doesn't know about the other person's whereabouts and I'd say that it'd probly be best if I didn't mess with that or anything, ya know, man?"

"Yeah, I get it," Bryan said with another sigh.  He gave the man the signed paperwork and watched him retrace his steps right out the front door, making sure the other boys secured the trailer well, and hopping in the driver's seat to take off towards the east.

Bryan looked over in the corner as he heard the loud truck's distinctive noise disappear into the noise of other traffic.  The piano was gone, and in its place was dust, a few sheets of wrinkled, old music, a long lost dog toy, and some coins.  

Well, the grass needs cut, Bryan thought.  He pushed aside his thoughts and went out the back door.  He put on his hat, took off his second layer of shirt, waved at the neighbors, and went to work.

But in Bryan's mind, what pushed him through the hot and sticky evening was a woman's voice singing of love and spells amidst ever changing piano music, a symbol of what once was.  And of what could now be again.  

Quotes from my facebook (Don't worry, I will be writing more once I am done with this semester!)

"Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt." --Abraham Lincoln

"The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?" --Psalms 27:1

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." --C. S. Lewis

"It's a shallow life that doesn't give a person a few scars." --Garrison Keillor

"We live by faith, not by sight." --2 Corinthians 5:7

"I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book." --Groucho Marx

"Do you see a man who is wise in his own eyes? There is more hope for a fool than for him." --Proverbs 26:12

"What is popular is not always right, and what is right is not always popular." -- Unknown

“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.” --Dr. Seuss

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." --Edgar Allan Poe

"I've noticed that everybody that is for abortion has already been born." --Ronald Reagan

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: What! You too? I thought I was the only one." --C. S. Lewis

"I believe in Christianity like I believe the sun has risen: not just because I see it, but because by it, I see everything else." --C. S. Lewis

"I have never thought of writing for reputation and honor. What I have in my heart must come out; that is the reason why I compose." --Ludwig van Beethoven

"Peace begins with a smile." --Mother Teresa

"Many Christians are striving in the flesh to do the works of the Spirit, and they are frustrated and tired. Wouldn't you rather rest in the Resurrection than try to overhaul the old nature that was-- and should continually be-- crucified with Jesus? New life is an eternal blessing, but it has no short-term benefit if we refuse to live in it. How do you get there? Not by straining for it, not by reading about it, and not by frantically immersing yourself in church life. No, just by asking. Ask often, trust deeply, let yourself be convinced by the promise, think about it often, and most of all give Jesus free reign of you heart. The power of His resurrection is available when the power of your self is exhausted. Live in His power. Or better yet, let His power live in you." -- Chris Tiegreen

“It doesn’t matter what course you take. Simply hang around until you catch the Spirit, or the Spirit catches you.” -- Robert Frost

"A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave." --Gandhi

"I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ." --Gandhi

"And I think that's what our world is desperately in need of - lovers, people who are building deep, genuine relationships with fellow strugglers along the way, and who actually know the faces of the people behind the issues they are concerned about." --Shane Claiborne

“Most good things have already been said far too many times and just need to be lived.” --Shane Claiborne

"And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” --Sylvia Plath

“Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.” --Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

"We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now." --Martin Luther King, Jr.

"Just always be yourself, work hard, and you will be respected for who you really are." -- my daddy :)

"Love, laughter, and prayers." --my mommy :)

Looking through old pictures.

Looking through old pictures reminds me of this verse.


 Ecclesiastes 3:
1 There is a time for everything,
   and a season for every activity under the heavens:
 2 a time to be born and a time to die,
   a time to plant and a time to uproot,
 3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
   a time to tear down and a time to build,
 4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
   a time to mourn and a time to dance,
 5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
   a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
 6 a time to search and a time to give up,
   a time to keep and a time to throw away,
 7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
   a time to be silent and a time to speak,
 8 a time to love and a time to hate,
   a time for war and a time for peace.