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.

Priscilla Ahn

I was a little girl
Alone in my little world
Who dreamed of a little home for me
I played pretend between the trees
And fed my house guests bark and leaves
And laughed in my pretty bed of green

I had a dream
That I could fly
From the highest swing
I had a dream

Long walks in the dark
Through woods grown behind the park
I asked God who I'm supposed to be
The stars smiled down at me
God answered in silent reverie
I said a prayer and fell asleep