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It's time for change.

Explanation on new blog.
http://amandabrunton.blogspot.com/


Hope to see you guys there :)

In case you didn't know

In case you didn't know, or forgot-- being a girl is no picnic. I mean, it could be a picnic, if my hair would stop frizzing out in the humidity, and ants refrained from nibbling on my carefully and delicately cut sandwiches. Or I didn't accidentally drop a grape down my cleavage. But alas these things happen. Girl life, come to find out, is not all red and white checkered blankets. And those cute little baskets. (Where do people get those anyway?)

Today I woke up refreshed. I had plans. Awesome, productive type plans. Like leaving the apartment with my bed made, and a cup of tea. Honey Lemon Green Tea with a spoonful of Splenda, that was my plan.

I maintained these intentions up until my shower, when I emerged sopping wet, and slipped.

In case you didn't know, or forgot--falling HURTS. especially when you're naked and surrounded by tiles and a porcelain toilet.
I think it knocked all the plans out of me. I was annoyed and tired. I let my hair dry naturally (afro-y). I put on yesterday's clothes. I no longer cared to make tea or my bed.

Isn't it funny how things can so quickly change in the hands of a clumsy,hormonal girl? Like I said, no picnic.



I'm too tired to finish this.
I am not, however, to tired to shop for one of these:


This weekend's suppose to be pretty. :)

Cubicle for one, please.

I never should have researched job openings. It makes me crazy for a multitude of reasons, which I will now list.

1) The job description. I realize you can "professionalize" any job with certain words. I can make my position at All About Pets sound like a complex, responsibility-cloaked managing job (I don't just sit behind the counter and write blog entries after all).
2) I can't picture myself performing some of these tasks--simply because I never have. And what if they don't teach me first? I'm really starting to doubt the point of college.
3)NEW YORK. Of all the job postings I was interested in, only one was somewhere other than NY. And none were in Memphis.
4)I actually love my current job. It's the new experience I crave. And maybe more $.
5)What should I be doing? Purpose? Passion? Too many decisions. Too many questions.


So I put it out of my head, I diligently cut the UPC's off of expired products. I finish The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (I highly recommend this book to anyone who loves letters btw). I don't think about it. And then I think about what I'm not thinking about, and my head hurts.

What should I do with my life?

Days like today

I told Matt I was feeling uncomfortable in my skin. That was sometime last week, and while he tried to tickle me out of it, that feeling of fidgety discontent still lingers.
I'm tired of a lot of things. Small things that make no difference in my character, or where my life is headed;things so slight that they could be changed with ease.
I could lighten my hair. I could find a Pilates class that tones and strengthens me. I could make more time to write, to garden, to cook, to read.
But I want my hair to be lightened by the ocean sun, and my body to be toned by mountain hikes and bicycle rides. I want to have days solely for pansies and sunflowers or seasonings and spices.


But if I can't have these things, and as far as I know, I can't until December, I'll take more cool breezes and warm sunshine.
I can be content on days like today.

Wheeeeeeessssshhh(brain)

I would like to just take a moment and
bitch slap my day.

**SMACK**

First of all, it was my fault. My body doesn't respond well to pills ever really(there's been an incident every year since 1992). So when the head shivers and nauseousness hit me, I panicked. I can only miss one day of class, use it now? Can I drive? Is this going to last all day? Should I force myself to eat that pizza? Can I lay down and leave Lily in her cage?
But, decisions and head shivers don't get along, unless it has something to do with sleep.
So, I got in bed, figuring I'd sleep through it and worry about emails later.
Only, I'm one of those good grade, teacher-pleasing girls (when it comes to my English classes anyway), so I couldn't stay still. I couldn't stop worrying that I was missing something really important.
So I went. I wore dirty clothes and sunglasses in the building, but I went.

AND SHE WASN'T EVEN THERE. That, my dear friends, was not my fault. Instead, she sent another professor to read from one of his books. So I sat there--in angry fuzziness--and listened (or sort of).


~~~~

I'm not even going to go into the flat tire I got while driving home.

I have this list of things I should be doing at the moment. But I also have a full day before a night class tomorrow, so motivation to read that story and those chapters is somewhere between down there and before plunging the toilet.

...I pride myself in not being a dramatic person.
I don't want to be that girl. The one with all the problems, who's boyfriend died, who had an "unstable" childhood. The victim, the girl who needs help, who doesn't trust.
I have zero interest in being her.

But these days, that's the girl I seem to be. Maybe the girl I'm becoming.
So lets think. How do I break this cycle? How can I stop being so incredibly needy, when I'm not even looking for help?

What happened??

**

I think, tomorrow, I'll make another phone call to another type of doctor. Maybe then I won't be so....


CRAAAAAAZZZZZZZYYYYYYYYYYY


♥
Manda




*it's easier to relax when I take steps back*

Buttons and Blues

I could easily be a zombie today. I'm just so tired, so I stare and eat, and stare some more.
I need inspiration, and some zeal.

I wish I had a button. No, I wish I had three buttons. One for rest (Power Down), another for rejuvenation (Awake), and one for wisdom (Update?). Living would be so much easier.



I need story ideas...And some winter boots. :)











*block out all your demons with white noise, pills, and Jesus*

Diagnosis: H.IMB

I made a doctors appointment. It's done. January 31. Maybe I can stop crying because some jackass stole my parking spot. That can't be normal. It'd be more natural to whip out a handgun, wave it in the air, and yell, "Give me back my spot,mother*censor*" (I mean we are in Memphis)

I can't decide how I feel about psychiatric medications. On the one hand, I think we turn to them when we should be turning to God. Of course humanity yearns for the quick fix, an easy way out. If I win the lottery, I could solve all my problems.
But I also believe that some people truly need them. Chemical imbalance, clinical depression, whatever you want to call it. We wouldn't wait for a cancer patient to be magically healed by faith. We act, we fix,and pray that God allows them to be healed.

So if this doesn't work, well...There's no shame in crying, right?

so I don't actually need a Thundershirt...

Epiphany: I am calmed by writing.

Duh.


After several days of major mood swings, shifts, plummets and lifts, I remembered. Writing fixes me.

Duh.





My excuses have been these:

I have nothing to say.
I am tired, can't you see how much I do between work and school?
Nobody reads this anyway.



Writing is my therapy, my anxiety pill, and source of sanity. I've known that since I was ten and got my first diary.write it out and forget.write it out and live.
Duh.
Let's hope I don't forget again. If not for my sake, than for Matt's sanity. ;)

Wishing everyone a contented New Year,
Manda

can I please just stay home and color?

This stint of my life is killing me.

I was designed for creativeness.
It's in the spare time, not the time I created out of procrastination, but the truly spare time that I never have anymore; that's when I'm at peace. Because I can read, learn, and write these scribbles with energy that I now lack. I can bake a pie and make a necklace. I can finally learn to sew and knit. I can take pictures and travel. I can live with passion, breathe with vigor, and dream with inspiration.

I spend so much of these days reading things I don't want to read, writing things I could write better in a different way...in my own way.
I burn myself out.

And I really, really don't want to do it anymore.

red pens and wine

I think I've started a bad habit. But my goodness---these stories are awful.
Seriously, do you know what proofreading is? Is there a reason you're writing in passive voice and switching tenses in every other sentence?



I always planned on getting my teaching certificate, not because I want to teach, but because I don't plan on sticking to any one career. I want to see the world, not get stuck in one corner of it. Even as a kid, I had a dozen different 5-year-plans. The plan I'm on now involves all natural dog food and an English degree. Next year's plan? I don't really know, but it may involve teaching--so I was prepared to take the necessary tests.

But...NO.
I've got red ink smeared across my face and some girl's paper.
F I'm going to fail you all. That's how much patience I have.
Teaching may not make it into any of my plans.
Please Note:
Hay= Horse's hay
Hey=Hello


Despite my complete lack of understanding, compassion, patience,*any attribute of grace enter here*, I've found a way to write, what I think, is a decent and helpful critique.
And it's name is Pinot Noir and Hershey's Dark Chocolate.

Here's to reading 17 more.

it's all in the footwear

I woke up late today. I needed to be up earlier than normal; early enough to read the newspaper (because the journalism department likes to do pop quizzes on current events). I wanted to fix my chipped, snagging-on-everything nails. I wanted to eat breakfast and feel somewhat organized.

I managed to do all of this with the exception of one tiny organizational issue---myself.
I left the house in a pair of too-short yoga pants, a grungy looking Boston shirt, flip-flops and an afro.

The pajama look I can deal with. It's comfy and I deserve to be a bum at least once a week. The afro, well that couldn't be fixed. Rainy days equal frizzy curls no matter how much time I spend on my hair in the morning. And it was storming.
But the flip flops induced one of those hell days. You know those days when you're running late and a guy on a skateboard just passed the train you're waiting on? Or the weather channel says it's going to be in the 70s, but really it stays in the 50s and you're stuck with wet, freezing feet?Or you have to drop off Lily(the devil puppy) at a friends house, but she refuses to move out of the drivers seat? For THAT day, I blame the flip flops. (my logic is sound, don't argue)


~~~~

I'm sleeping till noon tomorrow.

A Beer and a Bath

Laura just disappeared,beer in hand,to her tub. And I have never been so jealous.
We have to move.
Sitting in the shower does not make it a bath...not even with a few lit candles.

Back in the house, I would take baths for everything. If I was cold, if I was cramping, if I had a headache, if I was too lazy to stand in the shower.

But really, I miss the stillness of it. I can't lay in bed and relax. I have to read, which means I should be reading media law or something British. I have to turn on the TV, but only to keep flipping the channels in case something better comes on.
But with a bath...I am still. I listen as the water tumbles and swirls around me. I am warmed and my brain is sidetracked by the thundering drops; what headache? what cramps?
I am off the hook for not being productive--because I am. I'm soaking my skin in bubbly, almond goodness. I'm allowed to be still, and productively unproductive until I am over-heated and wrinkled.

I need a tub.
But all I have is a beer.

Confessional

I have this trouble with staying on task. I get so easily side-tracked by day-to-day being. Trivial things like feature stories and dishes take over my mind. There's no room for anything else.
But than important things, like Matt, take over. Dishes and stories are pushed out to make room for dates and love and looking pretty. And still...there's no room for anything.


I have known what needed to be done. I have known how much easier it is to stay in tune with God simply by staying in His word..And still, I never made room.


I'm not stupid. I know this isn't Christian living, I know that the door to Heaven is narrow. I know I put school and Matt before God.
I know I've stayed quiet or stopped writing, because anytime I talked about my relationship with Jesus, it sounded so incredibly cheesy. And as a creative, English girl...I have this need to stay away from cheese and clichés. I know all this.

And it's taken a community group ,that has become my family in every way, to finally put me back on task.

Stand Still

I hold back, I do. And not in the areas I should be holding back in, like my mouth and the too honest things that sometimes(a lot) come out of it or from eating a butt-load of chocolate; for these things I'm all in.

Rather, I hold back from prayer and studying God's word. Because it's these things that have the power to change me.

I'm not against change. I like to try new things, I want to be a better person. I have a complete picture(and list) of the girl I want to be---to change into.
Just not yet.
Because changing now, means not being this girl, with these desires. It means leaving people in a different chapter...too far from me.
I hold back.

from peace to puppy

There's something about walking at night. It has this calming effect on my mind, yet I always feel inspired by my senses, rejuvenated and ready. Even with a puppy who spazzes about--darting back and forth from sidewalk to grass to mailbox, tripping me every few seconds. That peaceful, contemplative night still hovers about; it dares me to think deeper; to breathe deeper.
The smell of laundry overtakes most of our apartment complex. Not dirty laundry, or mildewed towels, but fresh, clean, soaked-in-detergent laundry. It is my favorite smell in the world (besides Matt) and can lighten my soul with one drag.


Tonight's goal was observation. I want to remember more, I need to notice. So tonight, I practiced.

I wish more people would leave their windows open...that would have made my discoveries a little more interesting. But today's world is private, and it isn't safe to let it be known that you have an 82" Flat screen. Neighbors aren't always nice.

In the neighborhood behind the complex, there's this giant crack in the road that goes from one side of the street to the other. Okay, it's really not that giant, but the ants probably refer to it as the Grand Canyon..or so I'd imagine.

Now for some reason Lily is obsessed with cracks (no dirty jokes, please). She likes to lick them (once again, refrain). Maybe it's because the cracks at the store are sometimes filled with bits of crushed dog food. Or maybe it's because she's a demon and knows that Laura and I forbid her from sticking her tongue anywhere but in her own food bowls. Either or, she decided this crack in the road was hers to conquer and I was just going to have to drag,push,and all but carry her away from it.

So I did.

And that's the last thing I really remember noticing, because every 5 seconds I'd have to yell, "Lily! DROP IT," as she went from rock to leaf to cigarette butt to stick to rock.


But hey, I got to practice my observation skills and am happy to report that she swallowed NOTHING.

Tantrums and Spectrums

I seem to go into these temperamental tantrum states where I want every thing in the world and nothing at all. Say the right words, but leave me alone. The great part is it gets me talking. I don't always tell you when I'm bothered, I don't always acknowledge that I'm hurt. But these temperamental tantrum states, they betray my secrets, and I can't quite play the together card.

You want to know what I think?
Tell me something.
It's the easiest thing in the world. As humans we are a spectrum of emotions. Every moment of every day triggers something. You got a ticket, you're annoyed. You saw the best commercial ever, and you're inspired. You got spit on by a two-year old. You're stressing over class because _______. You've been thinking about ______ lately.

Tell me something, anything at all.
It's the easiest thing in the world.


Or maybe you truly don't have anything to say. Maybe you really are always good, never stressing, wondering, annoyed, nervous, or curious. Maybe it's just me who's the spectrum.

Dear David,

I write to you because you can't write back. You won't advise me, comfort me, or sway me through your thoughts to be any different than I am. I write to you, because I need to write, and I can't write to the world, to my friends, to my family,or for myself. So here,now, I choose you.

There's all these changes happening. The funny thing is..most of these changes I've been meaning to facilitate (for months), and their happening on their own.

For instance, my soda habit(dependency)---gone. Not because I'm self-disciplined enough to quit buying Diet Dr.Pepper(a New Year's Goal,I'm pretty sure), but because I literally become nauseous after the first few sips.
Those 'huge' meals I would binge out on at the end of the day--are no more. Every couple of hours I snack on fruits or whole-grain-somethings or I become sick. So goodbye to forgetting meals and hello, healthy living. (Oh and thank you, Acid-Reflux)

I have two semesters left before I can hang an English degree (Journalism minor) on my wall. Actually I'm thinking I'll have it standing on top of my bookshelf..no more holes in the wall.

TWO MORE SEMESTERS and I haven't written a thing in months. Why? Couldn't tell you.
I have so much left to learn, so much I keep forgetting, and I cannot write; call it writer's block, cold feet, or what you may. But with this fall semester comes 3 hardcore writing classes..So write, I shall. And I'm starting with you.

Our Community Groups with Fellowship started (finally)! It's amazing to see the connections all of us have despite us being strangers. Like the leader, Brandon Edgerson, he shops in our store.Great guy. We're beginning lesson 2 and I already love them all.

See? So many changes and I initiated exactly none of them. Wish you were here to see the Fall.
Forgive me for choppy letter writing;it's the best I can do these days.

Love you always,
Manda

from somewhere else

It's strange to be writing from this perspective.

No, perspective isn't the right word..I am not looking at anything any differently, but just surrounded by differentness; which really always makes you view your natural, every-day world differently..so maybe I'll stick with perspective.

I didn't realize how much I missed it here..The palm trees and waves and sunshine..but mostly the family togetherness. I forgot what it felt like to be constantly involved in other people's business. You would not believe how much I know..that I so shouldn't know, or perhaps I should have already known had I stayed in touch. My mind is thinking in circles this evening, forgive me. The point is...I miss family; I miss being known.

I just finished Matt's book (something about Ender Wiggin). And I'm appalled..this is my first book to read start to finish within a couple of days...in months. Not a good sign for an English major...an English major who has 4 classes left before earning a degree..and an English major who knows absolutely nothing about English. 4 classes simply cannot be right.

I'm going to get my Masters simply to feel like I know something.

Tribute to June

You know that image we have at the start of summer? Where you're sipping sweet tea poolside, book in hand, and plans yet to be made?

That is so far from June.

I've had doorknobs, cabinet handles, sink knobs, you name it--I've torn off about 12 this month.
Please understand, I am not the Hulk.
I know how to open a door and turn on the sink. I know, this isn't horrible and by the 4th detached knob, I was smiling wryly... but I'm allowed to add it into the equation of pestering, pernicious June.

I'm also allowed to complain about my hair dryer blowing up, and my straightner that decided to mimic a lukewarm pile of plastic...These things aren't cheap.
And my face exploding. I am not being dramatic, it looks like little craters of lava developed there.

Did I mention some woman gunned her car into the side of mine WHILE I was driving?
Okay, now I'm being dramatic. But good grief, that car has been through enough this year.


I could continue on, but that would take all day and it's not the point of this entry.
Rather, the point is simple--Sunflowers
Pretty, simple, sun-loving sunflowers.
That's what it took to remind me to smile, to breathe, and to shrug it all off.