sitting in church sunday morning i noticed the gray-haired woman in front of me was using a pick to perfect her hairstyle while the congregation waited for the start of the service.
after a little primping, the woman turned around and asked me, "could you fill in the bald spots, dearie?"
if that's not precious, i don't know what is.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
a post revisited.
i'm currently in a course called writing for the profession. the objective of this course is to prepare individuals for publication: being published is a goal of most everyone in the class; however, it is a required course as well. the first assignment of the semester was to create something the instructor calls a personal essay, and me, being the resourceful gal i am, decided to recycle an old blog post for said assignment.
below you'll find my personal essay, an old post that has been poked and prodded by english junkies in my class. it's much longer than the original and just in time for valentine's day... enjoy!
Z. Cavaricci + Me = Love
I had a good talk with my friend Bethany last night. We talked about hope deferred and dreams that are never realized. We wondered aloud about love lost and the process of moving on from any unfulfilled good intention.
When we talked of love we questioned how new love begins when old feelings still exist. Bethany, it seems, feels that one must be completely over their previous love interest before they can commit to someone new. I, on the other hand, am becoming more convinced that one must find a new interest in order to escape the feelings connected to a past love.
Such a conversation is typical for Bethany and me. We talk often of love and think we know it well. We dated each others’ brothers for a combined total of seven years, you see. And, while those years brought us closer as friends, our respective romantic relationships left us a bit jilted. Almost without warning our relationships ended and left us feeling as if we had not only lost a lover but a brother as well. The four of us, unconventional as it may seem, spent countless hours together: two siblings dating two siblings. Yet, after our respective breakups, even spending time with our own brothers felt wrong. My brother, after all, had broken my best friend’s heart. The same was true with Bethany and her brother.
The question my friend and I were left with concerns life post-breakup. Do one’s feelings simply evaporate after time, or is the whole process more strategic? It could be said that my feelings for Bethany’s brother haunted me. The only relief was an exorcism of sorts – an exorcism in the shape of someone new. And, though I could elaborate on such an analogy, it was another analogy that found its way into my conversation with Bethany last night:
In eighth grade I loved two things (I use the term “loved” loosely here – work with me): a boy named Andrew and Z. Cavaricci. Andrew was a wrestler with dark hair and eyes. He was my first kiss. I remember the awkward silence after our lip lock, a silence I filled by telling him how relieved I was to have taken my retainers out first.
Andrew thought I was paranoid because I was uncomfortable even holding his hand in public. To “ease my paranoia,” Andrew would choose movies unlikely to draw a crowd, and we would sit in the theater each Saturday night alone or very nearly alone watching horrible films like Anaconda or Donnie Brasco. In retrospect I realize that his motives were more selfish than I once realized, but the gesture seemed innocent and sweet to my eighth grade self. Andrew, like my Z. Cavaricci jeans, made me feel special, and that seemed to be all that really mattered.
My eighth grade year, every girl wanted a pair of Z. Cavaricci jeans. Though extremely overpriced, the original decals on the back pockets of each pair made a statement. Like a girl wearing her boyfriend’s letter jacket, Z. Cavaricci marked its territory by plastering its logo across girls’ backsides. On my particular pair, a large blue Z was stitched into the back left pocket, and on the back right pocket was Cavaricci in blue and gold stitching. Eventually, my mom had to regulate how often I washed and wore my favorite pair of jeans. The stitching, she said, was delicate, and besides, people might think less of her for sending me to school in the same pair of jeans every day. I didn’t care. Those jeans had my heart.
Now, while equating the love of a thing with the love of a human may seem a little silly, you should know that my feelings for the boy faded as soon as an upperclassman asked me to go to a drive-in movie with him. My feelings for Mr. Cavaricci, however, were a little more lasting. I remember my idealistic views about wearing my Z. Cavaricci jeans forever. In fact, I remember specifically promising my mom that I would wear them forever – I would have said anything in order to convince her to buy me the overpriced jeans in the first place.
Then, one day something better came along. Maybe it was Pepe or Lawman. Maybe Mossimo stole my heart. I don’t quite remember what brand name came next in the long line of fashion fervor, but the point is that something came next. It didn’t matter that I really loved my Z. Cavaricci jeans, it only mattered that something else caught my attention. A new fad came along, and what was an eighth grade girl to do but follow the crowd?
Essentially, my thoughts shared with Bethany were simple: someone, it seems, always comes along and makes you forget about the last guy, and eventually, I imagine, we’ll find someone we won’t really get tired of but instead want to spend all of our time with no matter what other options arise. Like a great pair of Gap jeans, we’ll get comfortable with them and they’ll never really go out of style.
I believe that in relationships and attire it’s inevitable that you will find yourself comparing the new with the old. What matters is that the new eventually makes you forget about the old. If, at the point when my jeans were no longer the right fit or the right style, I had decided to only wear sweats until another pair of jeans made me feel just as special, I probably would have found myself wearing sweats for quite some time. It may be silly, but I loved those jeans. With relationships the same holds true. One’s feelings don’t disappear overnight; they do, however, begin to dwindle when someone or something new comes along.
To end this analogy it seems only appropriate to remind you, dear reader, that it’s never okay for a pair of jeans (or a man for that matter) to advertise their logo across your backside. I'm just sayin'...
below you'll find my personal essay, an old post that has been poked and prodded by english junkies in my class. it's much longer than the original and just in time for valentine's day... enjoy!
Z. Cavaricci + Me = Love
I had a good talk with my friend Bethany last night. We talked about hope deferred and dreams that are never realized. We wondered aloud about love lost and the process of moving on from any unfulfilled good intention.
When we talked of love we questioned how new love begins when old feelings still exist. Bethany, it seems, feels that one must be completely over their previous love interest before they can commit to someone new. I, on the other hand, am becoming more convinced that one must find a new interest in order to escape the feelings connected to a past love.
Such a conversation is typical for Bethany and me. We talk often of love and think we know it well. We dated each others’ brothers for a combined total of seven years, you see. And, while those years brought us closer as friends, our respective romantic relationships left us a bit jilted. Almost without warning our relationships ended and left us feeling as if we had not only lost a lover but a brother as well. The four of us, unconventional as it may seem, spent countless hours together: two siblings dating two siblings. Yet, after our respective breakups, even spending time with our own brothers felt wrong. My brother, after all, had broken my best friend’s heart. The same was true with Bethany and her brother.
The question my friend and I were left with concerns life post-breakup. Do one’s feelings simply evaporate after time, or is the whole process more strategic? It could be said that my feelings for Bethany’s brother haunted me. The only relief was an exorcism of sorts – an exorcism in the shape of someone new. And, though I could elaborate on such an analogy, it was another analogy that found its way into my conversation with Bethany last night:
In eighth grade I loved two things (I use the term “loved” loosely here – work with me): a boy named Andrew and Z. Cavaricci. Andrew was a wrestler with dark hair and eyes. He was my first kiss. I remember the awkward silence after our lip lock, a silence I filled by telling him how relieved I was to have taken my retainers out first.
Andrew thought I was paranoid because I was uncomfortable even holding his hand in public. To “ease my paranoia,” Andrew would choose movies unlikely to draw a crowd, and we would sit in the theater each Saturday night alone or very nearly alone watching horrible films like Anaconda or Donnie Brasco. In retrospect I realize that his motives were more selfish than I once realized, but the gesture seemed innocent and sweet to my eighth grade self. Andrew, like my Z. Cavaricci jeans, made me feel special, and that seemed to be all that really mattered.
My eighth grade year, every girl wanted a pair of Z. Cavaricci jeans. Though extremely overpriced, the original decals on the back pockets of each pair made a statement. Like a girl wearing her boyfriend’s letter jacket, Z. Cavaricci marked its territory by plastering its logo across girls’ backsides. On my particular pair, a large blue Z was stitched into the back left pocket, and on the back right pocket was Cavaricci in blue and gold stitching. Eventually, my mom had to regulate how often I washed and wore my favorite pair of jeans. The stitching, she said, was delicate, and besides, people might think less of her for sending me to school in the same pair of jeans every day. I didn’t care. Those jeans had my heart.
Now, while equating the love of a thing with the love of a human may seem a little silly, you should know that my feelings for the boy faded as soon as an upperclassman asked me to go to a drive-in movie with him. My feelings for Mr. Cavaricci, however, were a little more lasting. I remember my idealistic views about wearing my Z. Cavaricci jeans forever. In fact, I remember specifically promising my mom that I would wear them forever – I would have said anything in order to convince her to buy me the overpriced jeans in the first place.
Then, one day something better came along. Maybe it was Pepe or Lawman. Maybe Mossimo stole my heart. I don’t quite remember what brand name came next in the long line of fashion fervor, but the point is that something came next. It didn’t matter that I really loved my Z. Cavaricci jeans, it only mattered that something else caught my attention. A new fad came along, and what was an eighth grade girl to do but follow the crowd?
Essentially, my thoughts shared with Bethany were simple: someone, it seems, always comes along and makes you forget about the last guy, and eventually, I imagine, we’ll find someone we won’t really get tired of but instead want to spend all of our time with no matter what other options arise. Like a great pair of Gap jeans, we’ll get comfortable with them and they’ll never really go out of style.
I believe that in relationships and attire it’s inevitable that you will find yourself comparing the new with the old. What matters is that the new eventually makes you forget about the old. If, at the point when my jeans were no longer the right fit or the right style, I had decided to only wear sweats until another pair of jeans made me feel just as special, I probably would have found myself wearing sweats for quite some time. It may be silly, but I loved those jeans. With relationships the same holds true. One’s feelings don’t disappear overnight; they do, however, begin to dwindle when someone or something new comes along.
To end this analogy it seems only appropriate to remind you, dear reader, that it’s never okay for a pair of jeans (or a man for that matter) to advertise their logo across your backside. I'm just sayin'...
Sunday, February 8, 2009
as if january never existed.
i'm perpetually running out of minutes in a day and days in a week. looking at my blog it's as if january never existed -- in eleven months of blogging only january is without a single post.
as scarce as my blog in the month of january was my dialogue with God. it's almost as if with the new year came a distance between myself and my Father, and my prayer life suffered drastically. as with any relationship, if there is no communication there is essentially no relationship, and though i knew this to be true, i refused to make time for prayer.
understand that when i say prayer i mean a real dialogue with my Creator -- a back and forth, give and take kind of communication. january wasn't without the habitual prayers before meals or the routine prayer after my head hits my pillow.
the kind of prayer i was missing out on is the kind that requires listening, something i'm not sure i was willing to do. the beauty of it all is that when we pray with a right heart, God listens to us... and even more beautiful, He responds [psalm 5:1-3].
last night i listened to a message on prayer at lifechurch.tv and noted five things to consider when attempting to rekindle your prayer life:
1. when praying, your relationships matter. mark 11:24-25 warns that we must forgive others before coming to God in prayer so that He too will forgive us. 1 peter 3:7 teaches husbands to be considerate to their wives so that "nothing will hinder your prayers." both verses imply that our relationships have an impact on our prayer lives and the effectiveness of our prayers.
2. when praying, your motives matter [james 4:3].
3. when praying, remember that the way you live matters to God. james 5:16 states that "the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective. and proverbs 15:29 reiterates this idea: "the Lord is far from the wicked, but He hears the prayers of the righteous."
4. when praying, your faith matters [james 1:6-7].
5. and finally, God's Will matters. 1 john 5:14-15 promises that He hears us if we ask according to His Will.
i'm comforted by these guidelines for prayer, knowing that God promises to hear us when we pray, and my goal is to be more intentional about preparing my heart for prayer and then really setting aside time to communicate with Him. as for blogging more frequently, we'll see... i can only do so much, you know.
as scarce as my blog in the month of january was my dialogue with God. it's almost as if with the new year came a distance between myself and my Father, and my prayer life suffered drastically. as with any relationship, if there is no communication there is essentially no relationship, and though i knew this to be true, i refused to make time for prayer.
understand that when i say prayer i mean a real dialogue with my Creator -- a back and forth, give and take kind of communication. january wasn't without the habitual prayers before meals or the routine prayer after my head hits my pillow.
the kind of prayer i was missing out on is the kind that requires listening, something i'm not sure i was willing to do. the beauty of it all is that when we pray with a right heart, God listens to us... and even more beautiful, He responds [psalm 5:1-3].
last night i listened to a message on prayer at lifechurch.tv and noted five things to consider when attempting to rekindle your prayer life:
1. when praying, your relationships matter. mark 11:24-25 warns that we must forgive others before coming to God in prayer so that He too will forgive us. 1 peter 3:7 teaches husbands to be considerate to their wives so that "nothing will hinder your prayers." both verses imply that our relationships have an impact on our prayer lives and the effectiveness of our prayers.
2. when praying, your motives matter [james 4:3].
3. when praying, remember that the way you live matters to God. james 5:16 states that "the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective. and proverbs 15:29 reiterates this idea: "the Lord is far from the wicked, but He hears the prayers of the righteous."
4. when praying, your faith matters [james 1:6-7].
5. and finally, God's Will matters. 1 john 5:14-15 promises that He hears us if we ask according to His Will.
i'm comforted by these guidelines for prayer, knowing that God promises to hear us when we pray, and my goal is to be more intentional about preparing my heart for prayer and then really setting aside time to communicate with Him. as for blogging more frequently, we'll see... i can only do so much, you know.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
penguins.
in february of this year i learned to love penguins. more than that, i became fascinated with these tuxedo-clad beings. i went to the theater with a friend (maybe amy or abby or bethany -- i think it was abby, but i digress) to watch a movie called definitely, maybe. penguins, i learned from the feature presentation, are life long mates (so says abigail breslin). even if circumstances prevent the pair from being together, upon being reunited the penguins will recognize their lost love (yes, penguins experience love -- don't ruin my story).
the next day i went shopping with my mama and found, hidden behind random decor and stationary of all things, a two-foot tall silver penguin marked down to five dollars. whether it was coincidence or fate, that penguin was calling my name. i promptly bought it, and it currently resides on my bookshelf next to a two-foot tall bronze owl... i don't yet have a story about the owl, but it'll come.
fast forward ten months to me in my bed reading a book called blue like jazz: nonreligious thoughts on christian spirituality. i started this book late last night; yet, i'm already on chapter six because it's just that good.
chapter five is entitled "faith: penguin sex." now don't get your panties in a wad; there is indeed spiritual application. and though the title is a bit perplexing, i smiled upon seeing it and thought for a brief moment about my experience back in february.
here's the good stuff -- miller's words, not my own:
i felt silly trying to explain it [why i believed in God], even though tony is a christian. i felt as if i were saying i believed in peter pan or the tooth fairy, and yet i don't believe in peter pan or the tooth fairy. i believe in God, and as i said before it feels so much more like something is causing me to believe than that i am stirring up belief. in fact, i would even say that when i started in faith i didn't want to believe; my intellect wanted to disbelieve, but my soul, that deeper instinct, could no more stop believing in God than tony could, on a dime, stop being in love with his wife. there are things you choose to believe, and beliefs that choose you. this was one of the ones that chose me.
"you know what really helped me understand why i believe in Jesus, tony?"
"what's that?"
"penguins," i told him.
"penguins?"
"penguins," i clarified. "do you know very much about penguins?"
"nope." tony smiled. "tell me about penguins."
"i watched a nature show on OPB the other night about penguins. they travel in enormous groups, perhaps five hundred of them, and they swim north in the coldest of winter, so far north they hit ice. they look like cartoons, like something out of the movie Fantasia. all five hundred of them swim till they hit ice then they jump out of the water, one by one, and start sliding on their bellies. they sort of create ruts as they slide, and they follow each other in a line. they do this for days, i think."
"they slide on their bellies for days?" tony asked.
"days," i told him.
"why?"
"i don't know," i confessed. "but after a while they stop sliding, and they get around in a big circle and start making noises. and what they are doing is looking for a mate. it's crazy. it's like a penguin nightclub or something -- like a disco. they waddle around on the dance floor till they find a mate." a life long mate, mind you.
"then what?" tony asked, sort of laughing.
"penguin sex," i said.
"penguin sex?"
"yes. penguin sex. right there on television. i felt like i was watching animal porn."
"what was it like?" he asked.
"less than exciting," i told him. "sort of a letdown."
"so what does penguins having sex have to do with belief in God?" tony asked.
"well, i am getting to that. but let me tell you what else they do. first, the females lay eggs. they do that standing up. the eggs fall down between their legs, which are about an inch or something long, and the females rest the eggs on their feet. then, the males go over to the females and the females give the males the eggs. then, and this is the cool part, the females leave. they travel for days back to the ocean and jump in and go fishing."
"the females just take off and leave the men with the eggs?" tony asked.
"yes. the males take care of the eggs. they sit on them. they have this little pocket between their legs where the egg goes. they gather around in an enormous circle to keep each other warm. the penguins on the inside of the circle very slowly move to the outside, and then back to the inside. they do this to take turns on the outside of the circle because it is really cold. they do this for an entire month."
"a month!"
"yes. the males sit out there on the eggs for a month. they don't even eat. they just watch the eggs. then the females come back, and right when they do, almost to the day, the eggs are hatched. the females somehow know, even though they have never had babies before, the exact day to go back to the males. and that is how baby penguins are made."
"very interesting." tony clapped for me. "so what is the analogy here?"
"i don't know, really. it's just that i identified with them. i know it sounds crazy, but as i watched i felt like i was one of those penguins. they have this radar inside them that told them when and where to go and none of it made any sense, but they show up on the very day their babies are being born, and the radar always turns out to be right. i have a radar inside me that says to believe in Jesus. somehow, penguin radar leads them perfectly well. maybe it isn't foolish that i follow the radar that is inside me."
so there you go. another penguin story to add to my collection. but more than that, i like what millers says. belief in God isn't really scientific. a lot of it doesn't make sense, and though at times it all seems quite silly, it's as if this particular belief chooses us -- something internal positions us at the foot of the cross where we see our failures and know a love that is unfathomable. my Jesus doesn't always make sense, but my penguin-esque radar says to press on.
i love those little waddlers, and i love the Creator who so intricately designed them. my prayer for you in the new year is that your radar will direct you to the One who makes all things new. Jesus has chosen you... and He wants to be your life-long love.
the next day i went shopping with my mama and found, hidden behind random decor and stationary of all things, a two-foot tall silver penguin marked down to five dollars. whether it was coincidence or fate, that penguin was calling my name. i promptly bought it, and it currently resides on my bookshelf next to a two-foot tall bronze owl... i don't yet have a story about the owl, but it'll come.
fast forward ten months to me in my bed reading a book called blue like jazz: nonreligious thoughts on christian spirituality. i started this book late last night; yet, i'm already on chapter six because it's just that good.
chapter five is entitled "faith: penguin sex." now don't get your panties in a wad; there is indeed spiritual application. and though the title is a bit perplexing, i smiled upon seeing it and thought for a brief moment about my experience back in february.
here's the good stuff -- miller's words, not my own:
i felt silly trying to explain it [why i believed in God], even though tony is a christian. i felt as if i were saying i believed in peter pan or the tooth fairy, and yet i don't believe in peter pan or the tooth fairy. i believe in God, and as i said before it feels so much more like something is causing me to believe than that i am stirring up belief. in fact, i would even say that when i started in faith i didn't want to believe; my intellect wanted to disbelieve, but my soul, that deeper instinct, could no more stop believing in God than tony could, on a dime, stop being in love with his wife. there are things you choose to believe, and beliefs that choose you. this was one of the ones that chose me.
"you know what really helped me understand why i believe in Jesus, tony?"
"what's that?"
"penguins," i told him.
"penguins?"
"penguins," i clarified. "do you know very much about penguins?"
"nope." tony smiled. "tell me about penguins."
"i watched a nature show on OPB the other night about penguins. they travel in enormous groups, perhaps five hundred of them, and they swim north in the coldest of winter, so far north they hit ice. they look like cartoons, like something out of the movie Fantasia. all five hundred of them swim till they hit ice then they jump out of the water, one by one, and start sliding on their bellies. they sort of create ruts as they slide, and they follow each other in a line. they do this for days, i think."
"they slide on their bellies for days?" tony asked.
"days," i told him.
"why?"
"i don't know," i confessed. "but after a while they stop sliding, and they get around in a big circle and start making noises. and what they are doing is looking for a mate. it's crazy. it's like a penguin nightclub or something -- like a disco. they waddle around on the dance floor till they find a mate." a life long mate, mind you.
"then what?" tony asked, sort of laughing.
"penguin sex," i said.
"penguin sex?"
"yes. penguin sex. right there on television. i felt like i was watching animal porn."
"what was it like?" he asked.
"less than exciting," i told him. "sort of a letdown."
"so what does penguins having sex have to do with belief in God?" tony asked.
"well, i am getting to that. but let me tell you what else they do. first, the females lay eggs. they do that standing up. the eggs fall down between their legs, which are about an inch or something long, and the females rest the eggs on their feet. then, the males go over to the females and the females give the males the eggs. then, and this is the cool part, the females leave. they travel for days back to the ocean and jump in and go fishing."
"the females just take off and leave the men with the eggs?" tony asked.
"yes. the males take care of the eggs. they sit on them. they have this little pocket between their legs where the egg goes. they gather around in an enormous circle to keep each other warm. the penguins on the inside of the circle very slowly move to the outside, and then back to the inside. they do this to take turns on the outside of the circle because it is really cold. they do this for an entire month."
"a month!"
"yes. the males sit out there on the eggs for a month. they don't even eat. they just watch the eggs. then the females come back, and right when they do, almost to the day, the eggs are hatched. the females somehow know, even though they have never had babies before, the exact day to go back to the males. and that is how baby penguins are made."
"very interesting." tony clapped for me. "so what is the analogy here?"
"i don't know, really. it's just that i identified with them. i know it sounds crazy, but as i watched i felt like i was one of those penguins. they have this radar inside them that told them when and where to go and none of it made any sense, but they show up on the very day their babies are being born, and the radar always turns out to be right. i have a radar inside me that says to believe in Jesus. somehow, penguin radar leads them perfectly well. maybe it isn't foolish that i follow the radar that is inside me."
so there you go. another penguin story to add to my collection. but more than that, i like what millers says. belief in God isn't really scientific. a lot of it doesn't make sense, and though at times it all seems quite silly, it's as if this particular belief chooses us -- something internal positions us at the foot of the cross where we see our failures and know a love that is unfathomable. my Jesus doesn't always make sense, but my penguin-esque radar says to press on.
i love those little waddlers, and i love the Creator who so intricately designed them. my prayer for you in the new year is that your radar will direct you to the One who makes all things new. Jesus has chosen you... and He wants to be your life-long love.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
a busy bee.
i'm one fourth of the way through my graduate program and feeling pretty good about the decision to come back to school. at times throughout the semester i struggled, feeling as if my time wasn't really my own. i'd sit in a class like Literary Theory and wonder how my newly acquired ability to psychoanalyze a text would ever really make a difference in this big world. days seemed to slip away from me, and my to-do list never seemed to get shorter. it's evident through my lack of blogging that i was and am a busy bee, but i keep telling myself the honey will one day be worth it.
more valuable than my scholarly skills are the friendships i'm acquiring, and i love that i've found my place within a community of like-minded people. this semester i've seen mice killed and beards grown. i've ruined a batch of cookies but made up for it with countless other desserts. i've made forts from couch cushions and talked into the morning, stopping only because my eyes would no longer stay open.
i'm liking this new hive of mine... stay tuned for the honey, honey.
more valuable than my scholarly skills are the friendships i'm acquiring, and i love that i've found my place within a community of like-minded people. this semester i've seen mice killed and beards grown. i've ruined a batch of cookies but made up for it with countless other desserts. i've made forts from couch cushions and talked into the morning, stopping only because my eyes would no longer stay open.
i'm liking this new hive of mine... stay tuned for the honey, honey.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
"lovin' it up till i hit the ground" -- aerosmith
two weeks ago i almost lost my life when the elevator i was in plummeted three whole floors at record speed. after my heart returned to a semi-normal pace, i called 911 from the elevator phone.
yesterday, while in the same elevator, i had a flashback to my childhood. when riding elevators as a kid, i used to jump (and instruct others to jump) as the elevator arrived at the appropriate floor. alone in the elevator yesterday, i dared myself to jump upon arrival... i chickened out. blame it on the traumatic experience two weeks ago.
yesterday, while in the same elevator, i had a flashback to my childhood. when riding elevators as a kid, i used to jump (and instruct others to jump) as the elevator arrived at the appropriate floor. alone in the elevator yesterday, i dared myself to jump upon arrival... i chickened out. blame it on the traumatic experience two weeks ago.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
mexico.
i can't create coherent thoughts in my head let alone create a new post for this blog you're reading. i come here some days hoping a new post will have written itself, and rarely do i have inspiration to write about something as was the case previously. my life, it seems, consists of daily attempts to simply make it through the day. and, while that sounds seemingly normal, i assure you that my day-to-day is anything but normal.
i think i want to move to mexico and hold orphaned babies all day long. come with me.
i think i want to move to mexico and hold orphaned babies all day long. come with me.
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