Love the Life you Live, Live the Life you Love

Once again I find life fails the ability to be explained. How caterpillars turn into butterflies, why the sky turns perfect pink at dusk, and why the jelly side of bread always falls face-down when dropped. In addition, describing how friendships form also has always posed difficult for me. I guess I just never can understand how two girls find themselves in the perfect place, at the perfect time, and strike up the perfect conversation that entices us both. I remember the first moment I met you in the Cor Jesu gym, I know we both remember it. I didn’t even want to try out for cheerleading, but I knew I would be no success at any other sport in the fall and I was desperate for new friends in high school. I was tall; too skinny, had no curves, was dreadfully awkward, and had black braces. You were shorter, had jet black hair, pink braces, and always seemed to be dressed cooler than me – even in your Columbia, Illinois t-shirt. In 8th grade, I thought meeting my perfect best friend would ...

Some days I get so angry I can barely breathe. Every noise, every person, every animal, every object just annoys me. I want to scream at every phonecall, kick every door, rip off the leaky faucet off the sink, and completely go off on random people I don't even know. The feeling of complete and utter discontentment sets me off even more because then I feel helpless that I can't make myself happy again. It's not often I completely lose it like this, mostly when I'm under endless stress or when my mother nags me as though there were no tomorrow. What makes us completely lose it like this? When I feel like this, I feel like I just want to run; get anywhere but where I am right now. Usually, the change of environment changes my mood completely, either that or my running makes me so exhausted I can't do anything but be nearly drugged. Once, when I felt particularly angry, I punched my wall. Stupid, immature, and childish, I know. But I thought, boys do it, why can't ...

Stress constantly slipped off my tongue and lingered in the air in front of my for the past semester. Some things that got me through... -My kids I watch at daycare constantly remind me of how simple life can be and how sweet the innocense of a child is -Running while enjoying my new love of listening to military cadences and Enya -The undefined love, support, and bondedness of my swim team -Morning car pool with Kristin, especially if it's a bread co morning or theme day -Journaling and writing down my thoughts of the day every night...or as much as I had time to -Completely ignoring all the assignments I had for the night, not studying, and watching a good movie or my favorite show on TV...but it always slammed me later -Actually getting on the floor and playing with my dog -Picking up one of the twelve books I promised myself I would read this year -My Monday morning screams in the car with Katie -Learning that it's okay to have a good cry on hard days -Lazy Sunday nights wi...

Sleep sweet September The day to not remember Just one night and a covert smile Watching bottles sway across the tile Drive it down Assent it to flame Wait for the finale To come and claim Eyes turn glassy Fingers grow numb All the while we’re watching… Amused what to become Swallow down the broken Shot down the sting When abstemious I’ll recognize You were merely lying

I stepped out of the suburban onto the cracked, fading black pavement. Careful not to trip over the tree roots that have uplifted the cement path, I made my way to the large, square brick building that had the slight resemblance of a prison. The fake plant that serenaded the meager company that walked in 'when their schedules would allow them to' was almost too much. The first thing I saw as I walked through the squeaking glass automatic doors was a towering, faded picture of Mary. It clashed horribly with the cheap, white painted walls. I turned left down the familiar hallway that was too bright, the light reflecting off the cold floors. I found myself in a lobby that was far less comforting than it should be. The cream, pleather couches framed a small glass table with yet another fake plant on it. I suppose these people were too busy to water real plants. "Can I help you." A woman behind the desk in a white nurse's uniform asked monotonously as she stared at her...

Mom’s Rules 1. Don’t lie 2. Be independent 3. Ask me first Snuggling in mom’s “nook” and watching the Channel 5 news embodied the perfect morning in my childhood. At night, I perched on the glass kitchen table, watching her do what she does best: cook. During these times, mom rambled on, teaching me life lessons I promised to never forget. From what not to wear, to why my classmates were so sassy, to how to pick the perfect husband, mom exemplified a walking encyclopedia. Of all the lessons taught, she had three rules "to live by" she constantly instilled in my head. First, never lie. Don’t lie when I’m scared of the truth, don’t lie when I’m unsure, don’t lie when I’m nervous. The truth is the most valuable entity a person can possess. Second, remain independent. Be independent financially, physically, emotionally. Be my own person. Always have a way out. Last, and most important: ask mom first. I had no issue with the first, no problem with the...

In life, there are moments when we want to put up masks and hide our feelings. We want to show everyone else we are not easily affected by the pain of others or maybe even the pain others inflict upon us. As adults in a world surrounded by competition, we must learn to accept situations as they come with little or no sentiment. Although this is accepted by other people, I have decided over the course of events that it’s not okay to feel as though I must pretend I cannot comprehend pain and vulnerability. Crying is the truest, most honest form of communication, and it should never be held in. At a funeral, I sat amongst my bawling friends, and I wondered if growing up, if being mature, meant I was not allowed to cry, to be outwardly angry, or express my feelings in any way that attracted attention. I wondered…but eventually, I realized some things, big or small, are worth crying over. I have attended four funerals in the past three weeks. Two were for friends whose parents died suddenly...