My baby sister turned 18 Thursday. 18. She is legally an adult. I held her the day she was born, and now, we as a culture, accept her as an adult, capable of making adult-like decisions. Lord, save us all. This also means, of course, that I am getting older. Aimlessly careening toward my eminent meaningless, and ultimately single death. . . Anyway, after some crafty begging, I got out of work so I wouldn’t miss yet another birthday dinner, and my parents actual favorite child came along, the boyfriend, so we had a quite lovely celebration, complete with Elizabeth getting much better gifts than I did for my 18th birthday. Not that I’m keeping track or anything.
Any amount of time spent with my family always awakens those warm, homey feelings, which can only be identified as stress induced heart burn. My mother spent the evening taking about 500 pictures of my sister and Justin eating, sitting, talking, etc. most of which I jumped into because she was so clearly trying to keep me out of them. My father spent most of the evening talking about Gus, the cat, and yet a g a i n about how much easier his life will be upon purchasing a flame thrower. And I spent most of the evening realizing that I don’t stand a chance, I will be completely insane before my 25th birthday.
Then Friday morning, I slept through my alarm clock for an HOUR AND A HALF! I was having a dream that I was watching Mad About You (which is what I was actually doing before bed) and that the DVD beeped every few seconds. I thought to myself (well, my dream self, which is a thinner, funnier and more intelligent version of my awake self) “why didn’t they edit it out when they put it on DVD?!?!” Followed shortly by “Oh crap, it’s 7:35, oh well, why start being on time to work now? Snooze”
Excuse me ma’am, your baby seems to be going off. How embarrassing!
Speaking of the library, I think the library administration has been planting patrons to test me. Like the people who do “homework” at the tables directly next to my desk. There are at least a dozen places I can think of in the library that would be a less awkward place to study, but within spitting distance is where they choose. Clearly they are listening to my conversations/taking notes on what I do. Then there are the suspicious phone calls with obscure questions. I can only assume they are for the purpose of getting me to be rude or have no answer, but I’m fast on my feet and good at making crap up. And lest we ever forget the cross-dresser affectionately known as Leopard Print Bra Guy, whose purpose may have been to catch me reacting badly to people different from myself, but again, their ploy was foiled, I remained completely composed, even after he left, until I went to the bathroom and laughed for 20 minutes. Keep it coming library, k e e p it cooommmiiinnnggg.
Oh, but here’s a doosy, which will be filed near the beginning of my major awkward moments at the lib: This really nice patron, whom I helped a couple weeks ago get information about a library event he wanted to bring his daughter to, was in today. And so, friendly librarian that I am, I asked him if his daughter enjoyed the event. He sort of smiled and looked down, and then told me that on their way here he got pulled over and ARRESTED for driving with a suspended license, so they had to go to the county jail instead of coming to the event. I managed to stutter out that we would have more events and hopefully she would be able to make it next time, although I’m quite certain I looked horrified. So much for keeping my cool, I sure hope he’s not a spy.
Confession: I secretly think it’s hilarious/always want to accuse people of “ruining Christmas”
Cuteness: This old couple at the lib just started to walk out and they were holding hands
Gross: The cold coffee I’m drinking
Dream: To flash forward a bit and know where my life is headed.
Nightmare: To flash forward a bit and find that my life is headed no where.
Need: A little time and a little space, and a lot of wisdom from an old friend.
Want: a puppy
High: Coming home last night at the same time as Hannah, and (despite crippling exhaustion) talking to my biff in our somewhat clean home, after a loooong week.
Low: Money and class (as in academic, not social standing, although that would be pretty funny if I was upset about that) as usual.
And Finally: I’m feeling particularly inspired by Celine Dion this week.
Stay tuned for a play by play of Thanksgiving Week. Preview, my mom’s entire family is coming, and there is NO telling what could happen, but rest assure, it will be hilarious.
Filed under: life
I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to put someone else before yourself, and how complicated that gets. It seems like it should be clear-cut, but what are the boundaries, and how exactly do you do it? And when is appropriate, or not appropriate. There is always a grey area. All I’m trying to say is would someone please bring me some starbucks? I’m at work, and I’m sleepy. Put me before you.
Seriously though, the utter horror of the last two weeks in my life has crossed the “this is a bad week” line, flew past the “worst ever week” line, and has settled nicely in “well this is just comical.” I can’t even be upset about it, because everything is just so ridiculously bad that it’s funny. Too funny. Alas, there have been some great moments as well, but even those great moments found themselves in the “well how the heck did this happen” category. But I’ll still take them.
There is a 98% chance that I am having a mini-stroke at this very moment. According to some diagnostic research I did at the mayo clinic (’s website), I am presenting several of the symptoms indicative of a transient ischemic attack. There is a 2% chance that I stayed up too late last night talking to Sarah and watching TV, and then consumed only diet pepsi most of the day, and so those symptoms are just me being tired and having poor eating habits. But…I’m puhretty sure it’s a stroke.
Speaking of TV, I finally finished watching Seinfeld all the way through. I’ve seen it all before (lazy parents, raised by television) but I like to watch from beginning to end. Which of course is very bittersweet. I love the accomplishment that comes with finishing something (priorities? Oh hi, this is Marion, I’ve got the wrong number) But I, being of sound mind, have the habit of getting quite emotionally attached to TV characters, and always feel a little sad when it’s over. Anyway, I forgot how stinking hilarious that show is. I’d like to think I can identify with Elaine the most, however sadly, I suspect I’m the George of my friends. But maybe the fact that I can recognize that is a good sign? Probably not. I think I’ll watch Mad About You next. I’m just really in the mood for early nineties comedy.
To My Future Husband,
I hope you’re okay with listening to Christmas music for 4 months of the year.
Love, Marion.
Number of dropped pens/pencils this week: 19 (obviously stressed induced)
Number of patrons describing a book cover so I can find it: 2, for real.
Number of hawks Bar and I saw in one day: 12
Number of minutes (total) that I was late to various jobs: 33
Oh, homeless lady who doesn’t wear shoes. Please leave the lib, I’m tired of dealing with you. And take those sun-glasses off. You aren’t MJ.
Filed under: life
::edit:: I was wrong. The worst feeling in the whole world is how I feel right now.
I don’t have much to say on the matter other than no amount of preparation could have prepared me, the number of broken hearts to my name didn’t soften the blow, and losing the future hurts so bad, but losing what is already there left me a kind of empty I can’t describe.
On the bright side, I fell i n t o the street yesterday as I was leaving a very long and tearful day at work (which, I’ll grant, led to some funny interactions) and sprained my ankle pretty bad. Then I limped to my car and passed out twice. This isn’t really a bright side, because now I can’t walk very well, and it hurts to stand, thus making EVERYTHING I DO IN THE DAY significantly harder. I’m not mad so much as I am amused by how truly pathetic my life is right now. Anyway, it gave me something different to cry/stress about for a while, and now I get to wear and ace bandage, which was always a dream of mine when I was a child. And ya’ll out there get to have the image of me tripping and falling into the street and then laying there for a while to amuse you. Now if someone would like to come shoot my dog or burn all of my belongings, we’ll go ahead and make this week a little bit worse.
So what’s the plan now? I don’t know. I mean, I have a rough idea, it involves moving, starting fresh, getting closer to an actual career. Living and loving in the Holy Lands, otherwise known as Kansas City. I’m in line to have great roommates, although I hate to break it to Kevin, we can’t be room sharing roommates, much less bed sharing roommates, but aside from that conversation, everything else is set to go. I’ll go to school, work on my book some more, get really hip (which is what I assume happens when you move to hipster capital of the western hemisphere). Maybe meet a nice hip boy. Fall in love. Be hip. Or I’ll start collecting cats and succumb to my destiny, Marion the Librarian cat lady spinster.
As for the immediate future, I believe a good hair cut and manicure is in order. Perhaps a little shopping, a major overhaul cleaning of the bedroom, and a few loads of laundry. A trip to Chicago with the biffs, getting homework done, schools applied to, and of course some lovely lib days, and now the Pier, my second employment place [which, side note: worked there one day and already LOVE it]. All of this assuming I convince myself to get out of bed. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t spend a few days sleeping and looking out the window. :) The truth is, everyone deals with things differently, and that’s okay. You have to grieve losses, this is a truth I hold very dear. Telling me I’ll be okay, and telling me to look toward the future doesn’t help, because I already know. Some things in life just hurt, and diminishing that does nothing more than hide it away until it can re-surface, which is almost always more painful than the initial pain itself. I’m not angry, if anything I’m grateful to have wonderful friends who care so much about my life. But today, I don’t need advice, I don’t want an answer, I’m not even really looking for comforting thoughts, I just need your ear, and your hug, and permission to grieve. And some rum.
So to end this bittersweet post about the realities of my ridiculous life, I’ll give you some pieces of wisdom, which I keep buried under my wealth of silly thoughts and jokes: Be careful with your actions, someone else is always on the receiving end. Recognize the losses along the way, you can’t avoid them, and you definitely shouldn’t ignore them. And remember, at the end of the day, all the tears aside, you can’t always protect your heart from pain, nor should you necessarily. I wouldn’t trade all the wonderful things in my past to spare myself the tough times, and that’s for dang sure.
Filed under: pointless thoughts
It seemed like a good night to blog. Mostly because I left my homework in the car so I’ve just been picking at my hair for two hours, and that makes me look really stupid.
Okay, pause, totally awkward moment: A patron just asked me a question about how to find something on the catalog, so I typed in “Emma” as an example, but the first thing that came up was a book called “A tendering in the storm.” It was embarrassing.
un-pause, as I was saying, it’s been boring. . .
Alright, let me just tell you about my life lately. First of all, the WORST feeling in the entire world is nervousness. I feel like I can’t even function when I’m nervous, and for some reason this month, I’ve been nervous a lot. Big interviews, important Dr.’s appointments, scary discussions, uncertainty about what will happen next week on Glee, the realization that my boss can probably read all those IM conversations my co-worker and I had about Michael Jackson when we were supposed to be working….like I said, I’ve been feeling nervous a lot. On an un-related note, I might be addicted to sleeping pills…
just kidding.
But you know what isn’t a joke? My new phone. NOBODY IS LAUGHING least of all me at how hard of a time I have had with texting. I know it will only take me a week to get used to the new kind of keyboard, but in this high paced life where you have to be digitally savvy or you’re dead, I don’t have 30 extra seconds to make sure I’m typing actual words. Furthermore, it doesn’t have text predict. Like I have the time and energy to know the end of the word I’m typing…r i d i c u l o u s.
I got a third job, just a little holiday job to fund … the holidays… circle of life I guess? Here’s the thing though, I’m at this really weird place in life, though I’ll grant, not a bad place to be, where I am considering quitting immediately if they say I have to take out my nose ring. Priorities, folks, my cuteness or not going in to debt to buy gifts for people? Speaking of holidays, I’ve been feeling particularly crafty lately. Last week I made a Christmas wreath for a fraction of the price of the pre-made one. It’s pretty…bitchen. That culturally relevant word seems to counteract some of the lameness of my love for crafts, and the fact that I spent last Friday evening making the wreath. By myself.
Seriously, this post gets more pointless with every word. We’ll try again later this week, but in the meantime you can just enjoy these tidbits about my closetmarthastewartwithacussingproblemandabaditude boring life.
Filed under: life
On the third floor of the library, the floor where only employees can go, is a balcony that overlooks the atrium all the way down to the ground floor. Every time I get off the elevator and walk to the staff room door I have this OCD panic attack about falling over the railing. Or throwing myself over the railing, which, if you’ve ever worked in public service you know is a very real fear.
Well I’m back in good ol’ Manhattan after a long weekend mini-holiday with my grandparents. My grandparents are hilarious albeit bizarre people, and I understand myself a lot better when I see them. I love going to see them because:
A. I love old people in general, as I am a lot like an old person
B. They live on a farm and it is absolutely lovely, especially in the fall. There are baby animals to play with, pretty walks to take, and no drunk college students for literally miles and miles.
C. Grandma food, enough said,
D. They let me sleep in, take me on special outings, don’t ask me to do anything, and we do arts and crafts together (and everyone knows I secretly LOVE arts and crafts, even the dumb looking ones, which obviously contradicts most things about my personality, but I am who I am) and finally
E. It’s nice to be the kid every once in a while. I don’t mean the young un-experienced staff member, I mean the kid. My grandparents still call me Marion Marie, they want me to have fun things to do, they don’t talk to me about money, and they still do stuff like tell me how to drive in rainy weather. I know it’s annoying to be treated like a kid a lot of times in life, but coming from grandparents it’s so nice, keeps life in perspective. I may have a college degree, a career looming in the future, debt, jury duty, a Tupperware container that needs to be cleaned out in the fridge, but to Meme and Papa, I’m just little Marion Marie.
But I digress from this sappy interlude to tell you a girl just walked by wearing a fake tail. I wish, oh how I wish, I could attribute this to Halloween which is this very Saturday, but sadly, I cannot. Because in some circles of teenage culture, this is a fashion statement. More like a mental statement. I know what you’re thinking, “But Marion, you are like a cat, you sleep all day, especially if the sun is shining through the window and you can position yourself in it, and you nibble on food, and I’ve seen you jump up on a table to bat at a moth” But that doesn’t mean I can just wear a tail.
I am having s u c h a lack of motivation lately. This morning I woke up early because I had a lloonnnggg list of things to get done this morning before leaving for clinic, but I didn’t even get out of bed until 11. I just laid there, looking out the window, playing on facebook, looking around my room, reading, thinking, watching Seinfeld, crying, … okay, not crying. And then when I finally got out of bed, I just took a shower and got back in bed. It was totally worthless as far as mornings off go. I just need to get over my baditude about life and get stuff done, if for no other reason than if I don’t pass stats I won’t graduate and then I’ll have to work at the library for the rest of my life. l o r d s a v e u s a l l. And with that, I’ll get back to work so that I can do homework. Or procrastinate some other way. Blergh.
Alright, the votes are in…garlic bread is my favorite food. It was an unexpected victory for sure, my money was on cinnamon rolls, although cereal had a good chance as well, but garlic bread won. Naturally I was the only one voting and garlic bread is what I most recently consumed, so give me 24 hours and it might be a different answer.
To My Future Husband,
I will never put air in my tires. I only put gas in my car because I can’t get out of it, f o r n o w, but mark my words, I want nothing to do with car maintenance, specifically the filling of the tires with air. Call it a major character flaw if you must.
Love, Marion.
OhemGeeze. I just saw a lady DROP HER BABY. Awkward. And by awkward I of course mean ‘how horrible!’ The library is just a hub of … lets say “strange” parenting. At least once a day I fight the urge to say to some unruly, bizarrely dressed back-talking teenager “who are your parents and what have they done to you, or more importantly, why are they letting you wear that in public?” But who am I to judge, when I was a teenager I had to ask the same of my own parents.
Fact: sometimes I have the New York Times and The Onion open in two separate screens on my computer and I forget which one I was reading, its led to some hilarious, albeit terrifying, moments.
Myth: I like online classes. Absolutely not. I’m not even remotely motivated to do anything for the class. I also don’t learn much. And, as is the case this semester, I keep totally forgetting I’m even in them.
Opinion: You’re never too old to make your mom go to the Dr. with you. Well, eventually you are, but then you’re probably taking her to the Dr. Circle of life folks.
Are we going to hell because Jill and I taught her little son Cade to say “Eric rides the short bus” a while ago, and now every time he sees a bus he asks “Does Eric live on that short bus?” Perhaps. If not for that, we definitely are for saying “Yes, that’s his home.”
Filed under: apardenmeforamoment, dreams, library | Tags: To My Future Husband
I wish I could put to words what being with my mother and grandmother at the same time is like, so that you, my faithful readers, could experience it with me. I shall try:
…Comparable to stuffing one’s head into a small blender, turning it on, and then being required to perform a complicated chemistry exam whilst being forced to listen to Nickleback…
Or something along those lines…I mean, I love them. Individually. In separate states. But together, they are truly a nightmare. I can only assume that they are intimidated by my height and feel they must make up for it by ridiculing EVERYTHING ABOUT ME BUT MOSTLY THINGS THAT AREN’T EVEN TRUE.
But I digress. Uhhhh why do people keep calling me ‘ma’am’ today? Yeah, you lady, you are clearly older than me, don’t call me “ma’am,” call me young lady if you must, or even dude. No, don’t call me dude. I hate the word “dude” more than any other word.
Back on the home front, all the lightbulbs in my apartment keep going out, well the kitchen lights and now the bathroom. We solved the bathroom light by just putting a lamp in there, which provides substantial proof inofitself that we are not ready to be adults. I’ve had TWO dreams this week that replaced the lightbulbs in the various fixtures, but have yet to actually do it. My subconscious must be trying to tell me something….but I can’t imagine what.
To add to my already over-booked life, I may have inadvertently gotten another job this week. Although I hardly consider working at Pier One a job, and here’s why: A. I get to play around with decorating knick-knacks all day which is literally my DREAMS COME TRUE. B. I get to talk to strangers about decorating. C. I don’t have to talk to those strangers about books, libraries, computers or why all of these things suck so bad at MPL. D. did I mention it’s PIER ONE? Decorating…no books. Of course I can’t give up this libgig, because it pays the big bills, but I do get to have a job that is about something I care about. That’s right blog readers, I no longer care about books or libraries, and I only care about decorating. I’m that person. Speaking of work, earlier this week, Ol’ Suzypants, my boss, called me on my cellphone from her office. Naturally I was at work at the time, but answered because I thought it strange to be receiving a call from the lib, the call went something like this:
Me: Hello?
Szypnts: Hello Marion, I’m so sorry did I wake you (at 10:30?)
Me: Um no, I…
Szypnts: Oh dear, you’re not in class are you?
Me: No, um…I’m downstairs…
Szypnts: Downstairs?
Me: At the information desk…working…
Szypnts: Oh! Can you work tonight?
Me: No.
Just another day in the life of the lowest employee on the chain. We recently got nutterbutter bars in the vending machine. That is literally the only motivation I find to go to work.
To my future husband,
Just so you know, I will do whatever I can to save money throughout our marriage. But I will insist on running the air-conditioner until it’s necessary to wear coats outside. This is non-negotiable. Also, if you EVER call me ‘dude’ I will divorce you immediately. Deal Breaker.
Love, Marion.
Back to work. Fight the good fight. With punches and kicks.
So far I’ve just had cheese and coffee in my stomach today. Needless to say, I’ve felt better.
I wonder how many times I said to people last year that I would punish them by bringing eternal winter upon this land. I wonder why they didn’t believe me. It’s 33 degrees on Oct 10. I wonder if they’re crying themselves to sleep knowing now that I am as powerful as I told them. [insert evil laugh] I LOVE IT. Don’t get me wrong, I love fall too, it’s my second favorite season, but if we can just cut to the chase and get winter started, I’m all for it baby. Sweaters, scarves, coats, etc. unite. Christmas all year!
And mark my word, I will extend this winter one day for every complaint via tweet or FB status. The same is true for complaints about Obama winning the Nobel Peace Prize. Listen you idiots, none of you were in the running, and you’re not helping people by bitching about it, so just shut up. I just think we need to seriously evaluate our own lives if this is really that big of a deal to us. There are actual issues to address in the world, like leggings replacing pants, and boots getting uglier, and what celebrity is going to die next.
Listen, abrupt change of subject: I am so overwhelmed right now. I have way too much to think about slash do in the next couple months, paired with needing to figure out next year and such. I am pretty sure my brain is collapsing from the pressure, or I’m turning into my father, because every time I try to really think about what needs to get done, or actually try to start doing it I get lost in thought. Not intelligent thought, mind you, thoughts such as, though not limited to: What if the earth falls out of the universe? What is my favorite episode of all my favorite shows ?(I have an answer for most now) If I was a folk singer, what would I sing about? What if I’m balding? What if cats could talk? I wonder if Paul Rudd is really awesome in person? Why can’t just licking my lips make them stop being chapped? Is horse riding really worth all the hype? What if I just start screaming at work and can’t stop myself? What if all the cellphones stop working and we have to revert back to letters because we all got rid of land lines? (yeah, I know, illogical beyond all reason) I wonder if someone is talking about me right now? WHAT ARE THEY SAYING? … So, in case you ever wondered why I never seem to get anything done, now you have a taste of what it feels like to be me. An insane person.
Introducing a new section of my blog called “To My Future Husband”
little messages from me to the future Mr. Marion on a variety of topics.
To my future husband,
If you could please budget into our future a house that has a walk-in closet just for me, that would be great. Better yet, just an extra room, separate from our room, where I can just throw my clothes on the floor and have big piles without living in shame. You see, it’s a condition I have; I can keep everything clean and lovely, but I can’t keep a closet organized and my bedroom typically looks like what I imagine the inside of a dryer looks like. mid cycle. Thanks for your understanding.
Love, Marion.
ohmygoshthelibraryissoboringtodaythatican’tusethespacebar.someonepleaseputme
outofmymisery.
Lesson of the week: Never say something mean about one of your co-workers, especially if you are me, because there is a 100% chance that they are standing behind you.
Fav moment of the week: When Jill and I got popcorn for a snack at target, but we didn’t have Cade with us. That’s more embarrassing than anything, but I still loved it.
Least fav moment of the week: Statistics homework.
Hungriest moment of the week: Right now.
Okay bye.
it’s 11 am on a Monday and I haven’t left my bed yet. Also I’ve been wearing sweatpants for two days now. I will refrain from commenting on whether they are the same sweatpants. But boy howdy am I exhausted. It was a crazy weekend, but it was great. Here’s the rundown:
- Sunday of last week, got sick, unknown ailment, also had eleventymillion things to do before thursday including many hours of work, clinic, school, wedding preps, cleaning gross apartment etc. all made more difficult by loss of will to live from feeling like crap. Took many naps.
- Roommate got engaged, lots of appropriate squealing and bridal magazines.
- Craig came, frantic drive to airport, made it just in time to have dramatic airport reunion like movies, although slightly less dramatic perhaps, tried to find Starbucks, tried to find car, success at both.
- Dinner in Manhattan, saw old friends, had some laughs, feet hurt from bad shoe choice, very tired.
- Breakfast with Craig and Lindsey, hilarious, heart warming, happy. Walked around MCC, love going to the school and church with Craig because everyone is so happy to see me, well him, but it also take 12 hours to leave because everyone wants to talk.
- Set out to find the wedding. Linn Valley is hard to find. We took several breaks.
- Prepared for wedding. I love my best friend. We are very different.
- Wedding was beautiful. They are married, that is so weird, but so great. Followed by great food, great drinks, great friends, and a lot of laughs.
- After they finally left Craig and I set out to find Josh’s house, I may have taken us a really weird direction that could possibly, although I’m not totally convinced, taken us a wee bit longer than necessary…but Craig is a true gentleman and didn’t yell at me. Sleepover at Josh’s, what a precious gem.
- Next day drove back to Lawrence to have lunch with Jayne, Ted and Jacob, with cameo appearance by sister and her boy. It was delicious.
- Rushed to airport, let the record show that Craig went over the speed limit for most of the time.
- Said goodbye :( minimal tears upon leaving airport, short visit, sad day.
- Met up with parts of pact crew, walked around Westport and the Plaza, had great insightful convo with Jayne, enjoyed the gorgeous weather, wanted to buy everything in William Sonoma. Ate dinner, watched funny movie, remembered my love for Paul Rudd.
- Fell asleep in Jayne’s bed, woke up to find Tedder sleeping on a pile of clothes on the floor, laughed to self, was freezing, ready to go home.
- Drove back to Manhattan for what was definitely the 50th time in the last week. Reflected.
- Spent day at home with family including sister and boy, it was nice to all be back together. Watched Stepmom with Julia Roberts, cried uncontrollably for some strange reason.
- Baked some bread.
- Hung out with Sarahach, a wise sage.
- Feel asleep anxious about the future, but satisfied by a fantastic weekend.
- Had dream about the library. Sick.
Filed under: musings
Look “Manhattan,” Game day does not warrant rude childlike behavior. Yes, I’m talking about you, sir, at the gas station who cussed at that old man for driving slow. I know it’s urgent to go watch people 20 years younger than you run around after a ball and worship the coach that really has nothing to do with how well they play or not, but do you think YOU COULD WAIT 30 SECONDS? If I see act like that again towards another human being, I will get out of my Rondo and ruthlessly beat you. Go State.
I can’t tell if my anger came more from my disdain for middle aged men obsessed with football, or my love and respect for older people. Have you ever tried to back a Buick out of a small parking spot? It’s like maneuvering a small plane in a parking lot.
on an unrelated note, it’s confusing when white people wear du-rags. I mean, it’s fine, do whatever you want, it just throws me off. Do they have hair? No? Can I wear one? No? oh. I do dislike when people wear handkerchiefs around their neck like they’re a dog at a ho-down. Scarves I love, but western theme for no apparent reason…I loathe. (lol. I just considered putting a disclaimer saying that “the opinions expressed in this blog post do not necessarily reflect those of the author” so that if a cowgirl wants to sue me she can’t. I chose, instead, to put it in these parenthesis)
I must be making some kind of face because 70% of the people who have started to approach my desk have turned and walked away. Note to self, remember this face.
Also, I smell really good right now.
Things I’ve learned (or re-learned) this week:
1. You never know how life is going to go, but it definitely doesn’t go how you thought. Even so you must rejoice.
2. Life is a series of successes and failures, fortunately, they don’t have to define you, what does define you is what you do with them.
3. You are never to old to go home to mom for a good cry.
4. I am very rarely the temperature I want to be. This is just going to be part of my life forever.
5. I’m a homebody. I’m okay with that.
Now, I don’t typically do this, but here are some lyrics that describe how I’m feeling these days.
This is how it works
you’re young until your not
you love until you don’t
you try until you can’t
you laugh until you cry
you cry until you laugh
and everyone must breathe
until their dying breath
No, this is how it works
you peer inside yourself
you take the things you like
and try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
and stick into some
someone else’s heart
pumping someone else’s blood
And walking arm in arm
you hope it don’t get harmed
but even if it does
you’ll just do it all again.
Thanks RegiSpekt.
