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Well, I suppose I'm still thinking of Christmas. And angels soar :)
Hey there all the 3 people who read my blog!!!
I updated some stuff. I now have a super awesome header with dandylions. I love dandylions and I'm not sure why they are considered a weed. When my sister and I were kids, we used to pick dandylions and smear the pollen on our noses to turn them yellow! Okay, so we may occasionally still smear pollen on our noses. I suppose being a yellow-noser is better than being a brown-noser. Of course, my sister will still argue that I am indeed and have always been a brown-noser. I prefer the term "people pleaser".
There's a quote from the movie "Kate and Leopold" in which Kate's rather foppish boss announces that he is, "a people pleaser, people." Gakkk.
Also, I recently ordered:
A brand new MacBook with JBL Creature Speakers and a printer. I am very, very, excited. I can't wait until the UPS guy brings me my shiny new Mac! What rejoicing there will be on that day (anywhere from May 1st to May 5th).
My Mac will be Mac-a-licious, Mac-tastic, Mac-fabulous, and Mac-dreamy.
Okay, Okay, so I'm going off the deep end. However, finally getting a Mac is a momentous occasion for me. I will be one of them, the fortunate Mac owners. The few, the proud, the artsy. On cold, windy days I would look through the windows of coffee shops, my breath clouding the glass, as I longingly gazed at the PowerBooks and the MacBooks. How sleek they were, how elegant and refined...
Ooookkkaaayyyy, so I really went crazy with that last paragraph.
The End.
You know, posting blogs is akin to writing an editorial. It's not very much like a diary. I usually don't let people peruse my most intensely personal thoughts. A blog fulfills a different need; the need to complain, muse, mourn, or rejoice publicly.
So what if my public consists of 2 or 3 people (shout out to Larissa and Betsy).
In this age of instant information, where everyone is connected to some degree (of Kevin Bacon). Okay, so that was a throw away. I live in a techno community which consists of all my Savannah, Leo, and Taylor friends. I can keep tabs on them through email and blogs! It's not the same as hanging out with them at Sentient Bean, or laughing hysterically to 1 AM in a dorm room, but I am grateful for the chance to remain, in some small way, a part of their lives. Gotta' try to remain!
Went to the DMV today. Waited in line for a very long time. Got my picture taken. Hair is sticking up funny. Of course! My face looks thinner and less childish than in my last driver's license photo.
I'm twenty five as of yesterday. I don't feel different or more mature. I still feel as if I'm mucking through life in an attempt to make sense of things. I still see myself as a "little one". I know that I am more fortunate than most people. I mean, there is an overarching purpose to my life, and I can sense that. But sometimes, the day to day junk of life clutters my mind. Lately, whenever I watch T.V., inevitably an ad for some prescription medication comes on and I am instantly reminded of the seconds ticking away in which my life is getting shorter. I don't try to dwell too much about my mortality. After all, I am still young, and life is for living, not for fretting. However, when I am forced to focus upon my heart beating away and my lungs breathing, I am aware in that split second of fear that this luxury will not continue forever.
Vanitas. The idea that even in beautiful youth, there is a seed of mortality, of death lurking behind the unfurling petals of spring's first bloom. A reminder to LIVE like you're going to die soon. And in reality, you will. A human life span is the sort of thing comparable to one nano-second from God's perspective.
This is all very dreary and morbid. But if I do not think on these things and write them down, they won't mean as much to me as if they were just floating around in my head, bouncing off the grocery lists and class assignments and myriads of deadlines my mind is attempting to recall.
Right now, the radio is playing "Dream A Little Dream for Me" and the cappuccino machine is foaming milk. A good sound. Life is good.
I am home. You know, it's a strange thing, to come back to a place that you know so well after being gone for a while. Some things remain the same, but others don't. Little things are moved, replaced, or forgotten. My room is crowded with too much junk. I'm trying to fit an entire apartment into my one little room. It's at times like these that I wish I was able to be one of those people who seems to have only a very few belongings. I am sick of all this stuff. I don't really need it. Except for the art supplies. I do need those!
Being an artist also means that you are a collector. You collect other people's art, and you save everything you've ever made, because you never know who might want to buy it from you. You also collect scraps of things that are inspirations. Leaves, moss, postcards, textured paper, little bottles, ribbons, plastic army men...
I suppose I should give an overview of the past few days, just to write it down and get it out of my head. This past week is very blurry. I'm trying to remember everything, but I have this funny habit of blocking out stressful or traumatic events. I don't remember much of middle school at all! Thank God! I said goodbye to many dear friends, and I don't know what will happen to them while I'm gone. I miss them, and I want to be the best friend I can be, but the distance makes everything harder. I'm going to miss Amanda and Megan most of all, Compline, walks to the river, Molly's, Gallery Espresso, and that hoity toity antique store on Bull Street.
(a side note on the antique store: it had a row of windows that covered most of the Bull St. side of the building. I would always check myself out in those windows, to see how I walked. Watching yourself walk is a strange thing. Did I walk with flare and elegance, or did I shuffle along like a burned out college student? I could get pretty melodramatic watching myself, pretending I was some tragic heroine destined for greatness. I only looked like a shabby art student. I also always hoped that the employees inside the store got the impression that I was looking at the antiques in the windows and not at my vain self).
Oh, yeah, back to the main point: Every time I live somewhere new, I seem to forget that I will eventually be leaving. It hurts. You have to gouge out a small part of yourself and leave it behind you when you are done with a place. Call it what you will, the ghost, the effect, the memory of you and your time in a place fades but never vanishes. How can something fill you up and leave you empty at the same time? That is what it's like to leave.
I read something interesting today:
"Keep me from deliberate sins! Don't let them control me. Then I will be free of guilt and innocent of great sin." (Psalm 19:13)
Hmmm...
I've been thinking about control lately as it pertains to my faith in God. I had a conversation with a friend recently that really started me thinking about just how much I'm willing to let God control my life. Everyone deals with this issue, and the problem is as old as humanity itself. I struggle with letting God take over the things in my life that I so desperately want to control, especially the things I had no control over as a child. Money would probably be on the top of the list. But as I read this psalm I suddenly had a moment of clarity. I mean, the thought was so simple. It was this: The more I fight for control, the more I am actually enslaved. Rebellion against God is at the root of sin, and giving something to Him that I would rather keep for myself is a selfless act. I become more like Him when I surrender, throw up the white flag and beg for mercy. Every time I make a conscious decision to disobey God, I am placing myself behind enemy lines.
Baby Steps.
My friend Amanda gave me this awesome mix CD. There are several songs included that can only be described as a mixture of Eastern European folk music and Salsa. Surprisingly, the mix is a perfect combination. I love it! I've been listening to this CD over and over again as I pack up all my belongings. It's great packing music.
Also, I watched a couple of episodes of Seaquest DSV on YouTube. I now have a bit of free time to do trivial things like that. Does anyone remember Seaquest? It was one of my favorite shows when I was a teenager. I was in love with Jonathan Brandis. Gosh, it seems so silly now as I look back on what a huge crush I had on him. Now my crushes have evolved to include more mature unattainable men, such as, Ben Browder on Stargate SG-1. Yes, yes, I watch Stargate. I am a complete geek. Well, a closet geek, really. I don't usually mention my Sci-Fi geekiness in polite company. I feel as if I should have outgrown it when I hit 20. I don't really fit into that category of most young, male Sci-Fi fanatics who for the most part are obsessed with ships, technology, alien life forms, and half naked blue-skinned women. I'm drawn to the storytelling possibilities of Sci-Fi and the development of believable character interaction. The sky's the limit when it comes to Sci-Fi (okay, the sky isn't really the limit). I mean, the entire universe is your playground if you're creating Sci-Fi. You're only constrained by the limits of your imagination.
Well, that was off topic. I don't want to be one of those obsessed Trekkies who knows every name and rank of every dead red-shirted ensign that was ever killed by a mutant blob thing (Trekkies, you know what I mean). To quote the bard, "The play is the thing". The story, the hope for a brighter tomorrow, the chance to escape to worlds undiscovered; that is the germ of my love affair with Sci-Fi. Just give me a good story and I'll be happy.
I also don't want to have people automatically label me as a geek. I've always cared way too much about what other people think. I've worked hard to build this somewhat eclectic artsy-fartsy, rustic-chic, flea market, free and easy type personality. But no matter how hard I try, I can't divorce the Sci-Fi part of me lurking just under the surface of the sophisticated lady I think I am.
That part of me is just waiting to kick your butt at Trivial Pursuit: Star Wars Edition.
This weekend was crazy! I don't think I've ever had such a crazy weekend. Let's just start by saying that St. Patty's Day in
Some crazy things that happened this weekend:
Thursday:
My friends Larissa and Dan came to visit and they got lost attempting to get to Crystal Beer Parlor.
We happened to run into a crime scene that included at least 12 cop cars and a police helicopter. I later found out that the person they arrested was a 17 year old drunken kid who tried to run away from the police and hid underneath a boat and then resisted arrest. He broke a cop's ankle in the fight. Geez! Of course all the girls in our group ran away from all the cop cars, Daniel and Winston decided to go closer to see what was up. Crazy boys!
Went to River St. and bought some ice cream! (Daniel told us all the history of kilts and bagpiped, very interesting.
I was attacked by a rabid squirrel (okay, so that didn't happen).
We went to David's pre-St' Pat's party and the ceiling almost collapsed. David's roommate tried to get everyone downstairs by yelling something like, "everyone who doesn't want to die, get downstairs."
Friday:
Larissa, Dan and I took the Mercer House Tour.
We had a great lunch at the Gryphon Tea Room and then we walked around for a bit.
We went to Mercury Lounge and did the wallflower thing. The blues band was excellent, though. Captain Morgan gave me some beads! Woot.
Saturday:
Went to the St. Patty's Day Parade. My favorite by far were the bagpipe bands. I love bagpipes. Get's the Anglo-Saxon part of me all excited.
Ate lunch at Firefly Cafe (also excellent).
Went to the beach (was accosted by seagulls).
Went to the Goodwill store (bought a teacup).
Went to the St. Patty's Day Celebration at
Went to David's post-St. Patty's Day party (seeing as it was 2 AM on Sunday) and decided to stay downstairs this time.
Went home and ate guacamole, pizza, and chips.
Sunday:
Went to Vineyard and learned all about St. Patrick. (and no, he did not banish snakes from
Went to Panera (yummy).
Saw Larissa and Dan off (was very sad to see them go).
Chilled!
The End
Gilbert is doing much better. His fin is unraveling. However, a little bit of the fin looks like it might fall off. This fish cracks me up. Every since I learned to keep his water warmer he has somehow gained a new, improved personality. Of course this might have something to do with the fact that fish are cold blooded, I think. He greets me whenever I walk near his tank and does what I can only describe as his fish dance. Yes, he wiggles his fins and swims around in circles. In fish language he is saying, "feed me, feed me, feed me". Then he sticks his gills out in a gesture that could be roughly translated as “I challenge you, pathetic human, to a duel”. Why is it that every single animal that my family has ever taken in ends up being incredibly strange, demented even? Maybe my family is demented and it's rubbing off on the animals. The border collie is the most demented of all, but let us not forget the ferocious puma masquerading as our barn cat, and the horse, who thinks she would rather be in the house than out in the barn.
Oh well, at least life is never boring.