Tuesday, December 31, 2013


I think it was last year that Natalie posted about picking one word as her theme for the year. I wanted to do the same, but I was at a total loss as to what word to pick. This year, it comes to me with the blissful ease of a smile.


I want Twenty-Fourteen to be full of truth. I want to speak truth to others. I want to surround myself with others who speak truth.

But even more than just avoiding falsehoods, I want to be true to myself, and surround myself with people who do the same. I want to be true to my Creator. I want to be true to the big picture. I want twenty-fourteen to be a very clear, bright, real year. Like diamonds and good teeth.

There is nothing as arresting as seeing someone's true colors, someone's true state of being, unveiled. I suppose there are times when that's a positive thing, like learning that Bruce Wayne is Batman {spoiler alert}, but in my experience, that sort of disillusionment is brutal and disappointing.

I want to avoid that in twenty-fourteen. I want to seek truth from the beginning, and not stop until I'm sure I've found it. I'm apparently very good at discerning truth; I just don't give myself enough credit.

I'm excited for twenty-fourteen :) I'm so ready to shed the tired, raw skin of twenty-thirteen. Twenty-fourteen will be better; I'm sure of it. I'm going to see that it is. I'm going to live with True as my theme.

I expect that it will set me free.


Sunday, December 29, 2013

Writer's Constipation

There are words inside of you. Tons and tons of Words. There are so many words inside your head that it's physically uncomfortable. You can feel them like a pressure behind your eyeballs. There are too many words to keep inside.

You smile. Cool. So you can write. You'll write. How exciting!

So you sit down at your computer, or pull out a notebook and pen. You stare at the blankness, and prepare to write. The words leap to the tip of your mental tongue. You wait for them to make the final connection and spill forth.

But they don't.

You put your fingertips directly on the keyboard, hoping to signal your words that it's time to come out now. This is their cue. Nnnnnnnnow.

But they just sit there.

You frown and make a conscious effort to dislodge the words from your mind. You close your eyes and try to hunt down a good word. Just one word that feels right. An adjective maybe. Or a name.

You picture yourself running around in your mind, arms outstretched, chasing a small word in block letters. "Come ON!" you demand. "It'll be FUN. What is WRONG with you?"

Eventually you might catch a word, but the satisfaction slinks away as the word glares at you. It doesn't perform. It just sulks there on the page alone, crossing its arms and hating you. It's not fun. It's just a pain in the ass, and you backspace it, half out of spite.

Forget words. How about an Idea? A word is such a specific, elusive creature; an idea can be led along much more happily. Just moments ago, there were a lot of ideas skating around in your head, graceful and strong and silver, like a spiderweb.

Your mind's hand drifts out to take one, but instead of sticking and blossoming, the idea goes limp and disintegrates. Just when you think you have one, it leaves. There's a terrible mental dryness leftover, like your head needs a drink. Maybe a stiff one.

So you sit there, staring at the blankness in front of you, feeling full of words, but unable to produce a single one. You stare at the blankness, frustrated and uncomfortable, and watch the moment tease you, and flee. The urge to write fades slowly as the irritation builds in its place.

There was something great there, you knew it, but now it's lost, gone, and it's not even your fault. The injustice. The frustration. The hurt.

Some call it writer's block. But that's not the most accurate description.


Thursday, December 26, 2013

A Paradigm Shift?

Last year it was Night Visions by Imagine Dragons. The year before was Ceremonials by Florence + the Machine. The year before that was Dead by April's self-titled album. This year? I'm struggling.

In the next few days, I need to buy my annual new album with the iTunes money I got over Christmas. This album will color my first few weeks of my spring sophomore year. It will affect what I write and how I write. It will give a different taste to whatever books I read. It will set the mood for the new year.

This is a big decision. I have to choose carefully. Something different enough that I don't get bored; something likable enough that I don't regret the purchase; something sad enough to draw me out; something powerful enough not to drag me down; something deep enough to touch my soul; something shallow enough to excite me.

This is the first year I've intentionally sought out an album. Night VisionsCeremonials, and Dead by April just kind of happened. I probably should have done the same thing this year, it's just that I actually don't know what to buy. Korn's newest album, The Paradigm Shift, is the album I've been waiting to buy, but I'm not sure if that's the album I want defining my new year.

Although I dunno, maybe it is XD

Huh. Maybe it is.

OneRepublic's Native is also in my sights, but their songs all tend to sound the same.

Do y'all do anything like this? Do you seek out albums to start off your new year?

If you've found an album recently that you love, I'm very open to suggestions!


Monday, December 23, 2013

Happy Things

I guess I just need this list.

Happy Christmas Things
1. Pancakes
2. Sugar cookies shaped like donkeys
3. Adorable smiles on snowmen and Santas
4. 24-hour Christmas music on the radio
5. Hot chocolate
6. Christmas stories with pictures
7. Sarah reading The Mortal Instruments trilogy and loving it
8. Children
9. Perfect bows on presents
10. Someone's face when they love your gift
11. Being warm in bed
12. Christmas songs {just not the horrible, depressing ones *cough* "Christmas Shoes" *cough*}
13. Footie pajamas
14. Finding out I got a 4.0 this semester :)


Thursday, December 19, 2013

Fragments IX

~ Today I looked at the space bar on my keyboard and noticed that it was only worn down on the the left side. Upon watching myself type, I have determined that I only use the space bar with my left thumb. How weird.

~ I had an odd reaction of -_- and laughter every time I see that Blue dog food commercial where the woman starts off with, "It takes a lot to get me angry. But I was furious when I read my dog's food bag and saw that chicken byproduct was the first ingredient." Really? It takes a lot to make you angry? And THAT is what pushes you over the edge?

~ I'm really glad that our culture seems to be leaning towards accepting/appreciating tattoos. Adults are always telling us that they give a bad impression and we'll regret them when we're older. Well, all those judgmental people will be gone soon, and then we can all express and love ourselves through ink.

~ Upon doing research for my literature exam, I kind of really want to name a daughter after an obscure literary term. Like Aisling or Arsis or Autelic(a). What? No? Aw.

~ Justin Bieber has decided to quit singing? Yeah. It's not like singing is his whole career. It's not like it's his dream. It's not like he's made movies about it. It's not like he pulls publicity stunts like this just to get attention. Nahhhh. He's really gonna quit.

~ I wrote another story that's coming true, and it's really not a good thing. I'm not sure if I should feel guilty, or enlightened. It's definitely making life hard.

~ "I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." ~ Voltaire. Yeah, A&E. And really, are you surprised that Phil Robertson doesn't sympathize with the homosexual population?


Wednesday, December 11, 2013


My little sister and I never believed in Santa as kids.  Mom did when she was little, and she loved it. However, Daddy felt extremely lied to when the truth came out, so he was determined not to put us through the same thing. Instead, Sarah and I were told that "the spirit of Santa," meaning giving joyfully, was very much real, but the guy at the North Pole with jacked up reindeer was just a story.

When I was little, I really wanted to believe in Santa. I felt kind of deprived of the magical wonder I saw in the eyes of my peers. Plus, it was hard being the only disillusioned one in a group of kids discussing what Santa would bring them. It could be exhausting to handle the infamous question "DO YOU BELIEVE IN SANTA??" Mostly I considered it an early exercise in creative truth-telling and redirection.

"Well, I always seem to get what I ask for."
"How else would the presents get there?"
"I'm sure my parents tell me the truth."
"I've read a lot about him."

Maybe it's why I'm so good at bullshitting now. Who knows.

I did slip up once. My cousin Kathleen, who's two years older than I am, grilled me about Santa Claus one year. I must've been five or six. She became frustrated with my creative non-answers and literally cornered me, demanding to know HOW ELSE WOULD THE PRESENTS GET THERE?! By that point I was pretty frustrated by her ignorance anyway, so I just out and told her.

"Look, Santa is not real. Your parents put the presents under the tree after you're asleep."

That knowledge really took a toll on her, and Aunt Celeste/her mom was not pleased with me. She took the matter up with my dad, who--I imagine--handled it with a brilliant blend of subtle sarcasm and a dry apology.

Still, I felt kinda bad and never slipped up again. {If only refraining from everything were that simple.}

Honestly, there were lots of times when I regretted not believing in Santa. I always wanted magic to be real, and sometimes tried to convince myself that Santa really did exist, that THAT was the lie my parents were telling me. When I was like fifteen I heard something on the roof on Christmas Eve and got really excited.

But, honesty again:  If my parents had told me that Santa was real, I would have had the same reaction as my dad. I would have felt tricked and betrayed and lied to. I would never {seriously, like, to-this-day-and-beyond kind of never} have trusted my parents again.

An extreme reaction? Definitely. But for better or for worse, that's the way my mind works. My parents definitely made a good call in the long run.

Eventually, I'm going to have to decide what to tell my own kids. I'm really torn as of now. For some kids, the belief in Santa can be fun and magical without a backlash of fury when the truth comes out. It's just that you have to make the call before you know what kind of kid it's going to be.

{I wonder if you could experiment on your kids. Tell one the truth but not the other and see what happens. Of course, the enlightened one would more than likely disillusion the other.}

With my luck, I'll probably have a kid just like me, so Santa will not be the way to go. But I guess my husband will get some say in the matter.

Haha, that's a good one...


Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Current Status

It is finals week.

Scope and Methods: Research Methods Class
When:  Tomorrow at noon
I Want:  An A. I've gotten 89s on every test in this class. One. More. Point, dammit.
I Expect: I mean, probably a freaking 89.
How That's Going: I mean...I've MADE the study guide. I haven't done what you'd call STUDY yet.

Environment Science
When:  Thursday at noon
I Want: A high B.
I Expect: A C or a D.
How That's Going: I spent this entire module in class texting and doing work for the above class. I don't even know what topics we covered. I have not done very well on the past two tests. I might be screwed.

American Literature II
When:  Friday at 8am
I Want: An A
I Expect: I don't know. An A or a B. She's made the format really different and hard for the final. She gave us some sample questions in class that blew my mind.
How That's Going: Um. Haven't started studying. But I got As on the first two tests and it's not cumulative. I'm not that worried.

Intro to Christianity
When:  Friday at 3pm
I Want: An A
I Expect: An A
How That's Going: Totally on schedule. The study guide is completely made, and I made 100 and 98 on the first two tests. No sweat.

Aaaaaaaaaaand yeah. That's what's up.